


Accord

by RikkuShinra



Series: Those with Foolish Hearts [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Brother Loqi Tummelt, Body Dysphoria, Cults, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eventual Relationships, Family Secrets, Forced Marriage, Gay Sex, Good Ardyn Izunia, Multi, Pagan Gods, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Political Alliances, Political Asylum, Prince Prompto Argentum, Princes & Princesses, Same-Sex Marriage, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, unknown sibyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikkuShinra/pseuds/RikkuShinra
Summary: Prince Noctis never planned to get married, he hadn't thought that far ahead in life. His Imperial Highness Prompto Argentum-nephew and chosen heir to Emperor Aldercap just wants to go home, back to the cage his Uncle placed him in. But as fate would have it, his grandpa had it out for him and signed an accord binding the Rulers of Lucius and the Emperor of Niflheim's heirs.





	1. Chapter 1

I Don't Own FFXV.

* * *

 

Chaos, this was nothing short of chaos a war, insular as it was, between two warring nations with their hopes of peace resting on the rebellious, young shoulders of two Princes. The Princes, spitting nasty words and callous glares at each other had been separated by their lone caretaker. It had only been a week and Ignis was already settling into a well-controlled schedule, one he kept in line with a firm hand. On such a day as this, his patience was on full display. With one hand he lifted his steaming mug of black Ebony brand coffee, and the other he caught a sneaker as it flew overhead, aimed for the head of Prompto Argentum, Crown Prince of Nifleheim. The blond glared at the Prince of Lucis and readied his own shoe when Ignis sat his mug down, folded the paper and plucked his jacket off the back on his chair. The arm dropped, Prompto pulling his shoe on quickly.

"Are you both ready?" Ignis did not give them the time to answer, passing Noctis simultaneously shoving the shoe at the prince. "You both have school this morning, let's go," Noctis grumbled, brow gathering to go with his rumpled frown of displeasure. As he turned, he purposely cut Prompto off, a childish attempt to stake his claim of being first. Ignis said nothing, keeping his admonitions to himself as he held to door open for them to pass him and wait in the hall as he locked the door. He understood neither wanted this situation, it may not have been so bad if one was female. Prompto, Noctis would have insisted as if his eager demand would magically morph the Emperors chosen heir into the fairest sex. Yet, nature has a way of damming people and doing whatever it pleases. With the peace treaty signed after Regis's birth, Mors, and the former Emperor Romulus Aldercap had dammed their grandchildren to a fate they could not control.

"Move over!" Ignis's eyes drifted to the rearview where Noctis and Prompto fought valiantly over who got to put their backpack in the center seat.

"My car ham hock." The growing tension between the two snapped, Prompto's hand connecting with the angular jaw of Noctis. Ignis turn his eyes from the road as the vehicle slowed to a stop in the morning traffic, wide with shock. Partly because Noctis would be so rude and secondly because no one had ever had the nerve to hit the young man. Behind them, a car honked pulling Ignis back to the scene in front of him whilst Noctis shrank into himself, hand cradling his inflamed cheek. In the back Prompto huffed, arms crossed on his backpack that rested in his lap watching the city pass by, the center seat bare. When they exited the car students mulling past the two Princes with eyes only for Noctis, Ignis gave the young man a tight smile that blossomed as Noctis stormed passed trying his hardest to gain distance between him and his betrothed, despite sharing the first period with the visiting Prince.

"Why does he hate me so much?"

As he pushed the door closed, Ignis tossed a glance over his shoulder. "You are both in a demanding situation. If I was Noct, I would not accept it quietly either." Prompto looked down, eyes following the slight curve of his protruding stomach. "I would suggest, and this is just an idea, to become as much acquainted with your new home as possible. Endear yourself to your future populace."

"And the fighting? I know that gets on your nerves. It does Ravus’."

Brows rose and Ignis chuckled, "I have gotten used to it. Now go, or you'll be late." Standing beside the car, Ignis watched the blond slink into school, teens brushing past the last bell ringing as the door shut with a click the entrance void of students.

As he slid into the driver's seat, Ignis glanced into the back. In the center seat rested a small black pouch that had Ignis twisting in between the front seats to grab. As he turned back, a pouch in hand he turned it over. A small silver camera fell out. Surprised to see a candid shot of himself reading the daily newspaper with his mug aloft, from that morning no less as he scrolled through. The next picture was of Noctis, bent over as he sat on the couch tying his shoes. Both pictures, taken with just a regular digital camera were amazing given the limited technology. Thoughtfully humming, Ignis tucked the camera back into the pouch set it beside his case and pulled away.

He felt bad for the young prince, both, as they were forced into something neither agreed too. Having had the talk of duties and responsibilities with Noctis, it had not gone over well with the future King. It only made him irritated, mad, and more rebellious. It had just gotten worse when the dignitaries from Nifleheim arrived and instead of a Princess in their midst, it was a speckled Prince with hair the color of sun touched chrysanthemum, glasses the size of the Disc of Cauthess with what Gladio whispered to be the gravitational force of the heavens. That earned the hulking brute a hard jab, courtesy of Ignis, to his stomach. Not that it hurt, but Gladio played it up as a wound to his ‘fragile pride’. Noctis had not lost his cool then, he joked, smiling at his father till the scowl the man had wiped that grin away. This was not a joke, this was real. The sullenness that washed over Noctis should have raised red flags right away, but those red flags came later.

Prompto had never seen it coming, nor had Ravus, the Prince’s Guardian, nor Ignis. When Noctis got his chance, he struck like a viper. Fast, quick and with a can of shaving cream to Prompto’s shoes. That is how this childish war started between them. Prompto retaliated nicely. With Brownies laced with laxatives, Ignis inadvertently had a hand in that one by supplying Prompto with the knowledge of Noctis’s love for desserts. To counter his weekend in the bathroom, Noctis had managed to hold the boy down during one of their unsupervised visits together and rubbed a large amount of gum into his hair. Twelve large jars of peanut butter, twelve hours and an apartment that reeked of peanuts for a week, Ravus had had it. The pranks ended, Prompto took the last hit with the gum and silently retreated to taking pictures, great pictures while Noctis fumed, the action reminding Ignis of a toddler with his toys taken for being too hard on them.

Regis, for the distance he kept from the feuding teens, was not happy about the turn of events, but he was bound by the desires of his ancestors for peace. It did not help that communication had been nonexistent between the two royal houses for the last century and a half, but some form of warning would have been welcomed.

A sharp rap on the roof drew Ignis from his thoughts and as he glanced out the drivers' window he came face to face with Gladiolus, a deep scowl marring his own features. With all the pomp and decorum of a back-alley cat, Gladio opened the door, not giving Ignis any time to unbuckle when he started in.

"I swear to the Six Iggy, if Loqi does not back off, I'm going to slam that pretty boy face of his into the ground." With the Prince or Shield, there where issues abound. Only with Gladio and Loqi, the issue was different from Noctis and Prompto. Loqi, the Third State Prince of Nifleheim, had fewer restrictions on his actions than his first cousin Prompto. The son of Ideolas’ sister, Hela, Arch Duchess and second in line for the Imperial throne, and her husband Ragnar Tummelt, a highly decorated Commander of Nifleheim naval fleet during the Great War, Loqi was a military brat more than a Prince. He followed his father’s footsteps, unlike Prompto, Loqi stuck with the military and rose quickly through the ranks. So, it should not have been a surprise that the young general was itching for a fight. It was easily noticeable, the way he prodded Cor, who flat out refused even a game of thumb wars with the young man, to the way he followed Gladio around like some dog who found its favorite bone. Which he was, the two being Shield’s but specializing in different weapons. Loqi favors Machina, like many Nifs while Gladiolus could swing a sword that Ignis had once heard a ballad about the young man. "I couldn't even finish breakfast cause he's banging on my door trying to tear it down."

"Why don't you humor him?"

Gladio snorted, "and start a war with Nifleheim because I wiped the floor with the puny upstart and he ran home crying to his momma? Naw."

Pushing his glasses upwards, Ignis stepped out, case in hand. "Then I suggest a diplomatic approach-spar. A bit of training as he is Prompto's Shield. Building a familiarity with your counterpart will be a challenge. It would do you both some good." With that, Ignis marched away to deal with his own issues which included the daily meeting with the King.

* * *

 

As night fell and the city quieted, Noctis stepped into his apartment. While rarely a happy camper, especially with his new roommate it was only made worse when he stepped into his home catching sight of not just Prompto's shoes or even Prompto and Ignis' shoes, but two extra pairs of tennis shoes. Frowning, Noctis made his way silently towards the doorway, his backpack slung over one arm while his apron was bunched in the other.

"Gold Fish!" Came the obnoxiously gleeful cheer of Loqi Tummelt his hand slapping the table as he laid his last two cards down, his competitive nature gets the best of him. Prompto squinted at his cousin, rolling his eyes as Gladio placed his last four cards on the table.

“It’s just a game, Loqi.”

Prompto folded his own hand down as Ignis slid a plate in front of him. Turning he placed the other in front of Gladio. “It’s Go Fish kid, not Gold."

"Kid?" Loqi narrowed his eyes, ready to launch himself at Gladio when Ignis' arm laden down with a steaming plate, a bowl of mother and child soup at its center appeared before him. The sauce, sweet, tangy, and mouth-watering, caressed his nose. "Ignis, while I am thankful for your hospitality, I am here to escort Prompto to his new residence. I understand the need for the Princes to get along, but this is obviously a tough time for both." Loqi stood, Prompto following his lead.

Ignis held a hand out hoping to stop the headstrong Nifleheim Nobel, it did not. Loqi brushed his hand aside, "Ignis, we both know, and so does Gladio that this was not what the forefathers wanted. We can't force this on them."

“At least stay for dinner, Noctis will be home soon.” The gentle hand returned, placed on Loqi’s shoulder had him sliding back into his seat.

“Only because this smell amazing.”

"Do I not get a say in this?" As heads turned and eyes looked over Noctis, he ignored the retainers, eyeing the blond who refused to meet his gaze as he ate. "I think they should leave." Noctis’ backpack thudded on the couch, his apron dropping on the floor beside it. “Now.” Ignis frowned, schooling features quickly as Loqi stood, Prompto following with his head bowed.

“As His Majesty dictates.” Loqi sneered through clenched teeth. Noctis returned the look with a charming smile and a slight wave as Ignis escorted them to the door.

"Please update your residence with the Citadel."

Loqi nodded, shoving Prompto past him. "We will." The Tummelt heir turned to Gladio, the sneer disappearing into a look of slight concern. "I hope this doesn't ruin our training tomorrow. Six am, sharp?" Gladiolus hums following up with a stiff neck nod. The concern dissipates, Loqi bids them good night. Before the door is completely shut, Ignis is turning to Noctis, exasperated at the Prince. A lecture will not help, Ignis knows this. It would only make the behavior worse. So, he says nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Gladio's satisfaction of seeing the General struggle to keep up as they worked through a last round of burpees only intensified even as his own thighs burned, lungs drawing air in deep, became more pronounced by the sound of Cor's boots against the gravel announcing his arrival. Loqi, hardheaded as ever, was not going to give up, not in front of Cor, his first rival, and not to Gladiolus, his rivals most favorite trainee. Cor barely glanced his way as he took the stopwatch from his protégé.

"A clean race," the sideway narrowing glare had Loqi shifting brushing a hand through his sweat damped hair. The morning had been particularly cool, shifting from the last heat of summer to the start of fall. His breath wafting up Loqi exhaled fixing his hoodie.

Smiling, a bit too wide and manically, Cor’s impression of his grin, at this chance to show Cor just what Nifleheim was able to do, Loqi nodded. "Of course, what else would it be?" His voice a bit too perky for six thirty, even for Cor whose glare narrowed ever more the grip on his paper cup tightening was not really for a bright eyed and bushy tailed General or anything vaguely awake at this hour.

Sighing the man set the stopwatch, tongue running under his lips as he tried to keep his irritation under control. "I haven't finished this cup of coffee yet Tummelt. Wouldn't want a visiting dignitary found in a dark alley." A smile was forming, a challenge! "Are you going to stand there and smile at me all day like a love-struck schoolgirl and let Gladio win?"

Loqi glanced to the sidewalk where Gladio had been crouched down, finding it abandoned. Growling Loqi rushed after, his ears barely catching Cor's chuckling.

Bringing his cup up, Cor smiled against the brim. "He's fast at least might just give Gladio a run for his money." Turning the Marshal took the stairs into the Citadel two at a time, already smelling the bacon cooking in the kitchen. At the doors, he stopped watching the two distant figures disappear, lips thinning as he stood in thought. With a slight shake of his head and another sip, he settled on finding Clarus much to the grumbling annoyance of his stomach.

No, no, no, faster, must run faster! "Hey Gladiolus!" Loqi slowed his sprint to a manageable, albeit slow to him jog, beside the hulking man. "Thought you had me there for a second." He smiled, leering at Gladio to react in some way at the easy stride he had going.

"Great," Gladio grunted, panting hard, "you caught up. Prayed to the Six I'd lost you." Gladio wheezed the last part out. He was not built for speed, he was built to be a wall between those that wanted to cause harm and the one they wanted to harm. Beside him, Loqi started to hum, unaffected by the brisk pace they had set.

A chuckle rumbled from the young man, arm swinging back. "I wanted to give you a head start." The punch was meant to be light, much like the ones he shared with Ravus. However, the friendly brother-like gesture was completely missed by Gladio, the hit a bit too hard. When all was combined from Loqi's insanely perky attitude, being woken up the last three weeks at five am to spar with the 'intruder', Gladio's empty stomach, which wasn't really Loqi's fault, but it didn't help to watch Loqi shovel a gigantic cinnamon roll from Cloud's Donut into that hole on his face, or the way he licked his fingers clean of the glaze as he had never tasted something as amazing in his pathetic life and that way he savored the coffee; Gladio snapped. He was done, hungry for something other than sweetbreads and certainly not a cup of coffee. He wanted meat, quiet and to be far from Loqi Tummelt as he could be, like the blond six feet under Insomnia’s Grand Park.

 

For being fast and small, Loqi was not ready for the attack or the way the wall connected with his back. It was hard on the back of his head, cold seeped into his back through his double layer of clothes, feet dangling in the air as he was forced to look Gladiolus’ in the face. The sun had not reached the alleyways of Insomnia, it was barely cresting the giant wall, but Loqi could see the seething anger in the Shield's eyes a promise of bodily harm to come. The second's ticked by, Loqi's mind racing as he tried to find the instance that had sent the Hulk into a rage. Well, Loqi tried kicking his legs out only to have them stilled as Gladiolus shifted to trap the wiggling limps between the wall and his body, he had struck first, and this would only be self-defense on Gladio's part. Searching the only escape route, he looked for weapons, anything even a rouge alley cat he could bend to his will. Nothing. The alley was clean, almost clean enough to eat dinner from. Damn Insomnia and her government for being efficient and having fantastic environmental standards.

Gaze dropping from the fires of Ifrit to the incensed Cupid’s bow, Loqi found his way out, a dirty trick even for him, but it would work. Most definitely. As his own bubbled in his stomach, Loqi pushed forward against Gladio's hold to graze his lips against the brunette's in a vain attempt to break free. It worked automatically, just not quite in the manner he had expected it to. As the bruising grip on his arms weakened, Gladiolus did not move, not enough for Loqi to dart out of the alley to freedom and pushed back. His plan was backfiring, and the next formulated move was a deadly risk Loqi was willing to make. A swipe of his tongue, the lingering taste of watery sugar and coffee and a brief taste of cinnamon toothpaste on his taste buds, had Gladiolus moving back, stunned. It was not enough for freedom, but the gentle push against the mountain of a man was surprisingly easy. With his opening; Loqi brushed past sprinting from the alleyway as fast as his feet could take him leaving the vexed man behind.

From the mouth of the alley way Gladio watched him disappear in the distance, the echo of Loqi’s sneakers so early in the morning beat like a galloping Garula against the pavement. Brows joining together as the General disappeared, a mix of amusement and annoyance at his tingling lips settled over Gladiolus, his skin heating as the sun began to ascend higher. As he began jogging, a more manageable pace down the sidewalk, the race was the last thing on Gladio's mind.

"Cunning little bastard” hunger finally hit him, washing over him with a deep desire for something quick and simple. There was nothing like a morning Cup Noodles.

* * *

 

On the other side of town, Ignis bowed as stepped from the gateway of the suburban townhome, his backpack slug over his shoulder by one strap, another black bag resting crossed his body. Ravus trailed closely behind dressed casually in a white pull over shirt and black jogging pants. As Prompto nodded and mutter a good morning to Ignis, Ravus glanced at the Advisor, Ignis’s breath catching momentarily at the sight of his heterochromia or it was brief glance as Ravus shifted to stop Prompto and the muscles in his arm flexed as he gripped the boys’ arm with his good hand. "You will not be rude; do you understand Prom?"

Prompto acquiesced, eyes cast down. "Yes, sir."

Ravus stepped beside Prompto, leveling a cool glance at Ignis, his eyes trailing from the spikes of Ignis’s hair to the beauty marks on his left cheek. Ravus’s lips turns up at the corner, to Prompto he was being friendly, Ignis knew better. "Ignis, I trust him in your able hands." Ravus dropped an arm crossed Prompto's back, hand resting on the opposite shoulder. "They seem to begrudgingly be getting along."

Ignis nodded, coming to his full height, "that they do. Will you not be joining us this morning?"

Ravus shook his head, the last month of accompanying Ignis on his morning trek of escorting the Prince's to school had heeded fair results. The first week was rough, a constant battle between the two even when Ravus sat in the back behind Prompto, Noctis found some way to terrorize the Nif, in the front he would turn and stick his tongue out spending the lengthy ride making faces at the Imperial heir. In retaliation, Prompto took as many pictures, which Noctis hated, as he could. While the pictures where the least of the issues between the boys, it got under Noctis’ skin the most. The first time Ravus sat between them Noctis had nagged and being his oddly specific and deep dictation of what Prompto was doing, how Prompto huffed with irritation or the way his eyes,   _“the loveliest shade of deep periwinkle only distracted by the splatter of freckles that formed a brown line akin to dirt spanned his scrunched up nose, turned up in disgust as the handsome, smart and trim Prince Noctis, future King of Lucis, deduced that this plain, portly fiancé of his used the pictures late at night to desperately fondle his cock till he was a withering mess on his bed.”_

In a blink of an eye, Ignis had pulled the car over fast, the driver he had cut off yelling obscenities as they sped past, yanking the Crown Prince out and for the next twenty minutes lectured the future king about proper manners, being a decent human being while Noctis rubbed the ear Ignis’ had nearly tore off.  The narration ended when Ravus spent two weeks in the back seat with them reading over current Lucian and Niflheim reports. At least they both agreed, the monotone voice Ravus adopted for reports was the worst thing in all Eos. The last week had been spent escorting Prompto solely to school via public transport. "No, I believe you have the ability to handle this morning alone. If issues arise, I will accompany you tomorrow."

Prompto winced as Ignis smiled, he did not mind the bland tone Ravus adopted to irritate the pair. He was used to it as it was often directed towards Loqi and him when Ravus read reports, and Imperial letters from the Emperor no matter who they were addressed to. Only their personal letters where kept personal. Then sometimes Ravus would liven it up and when reading letters from the Chancellor himself, took on a high-pitched squeaky voice and flippantly acted out what Ardyn Izunia would not do. It was not much, but it left Prompto longing for home. Where he and Loqi could silently judge Ardyn who when he caught sight of the youngest Royals as Ideolas had went on random tangents that could turn into hour long stories of how he had changed the landscape of Nifleheim, made faces at them ensuring Ideolas always though they enjoyed his stories.

Ardyn knew he had made a monster, who found immense joy in imprisoning the pair as his compliant audience.

 He missed the few maids and the Butler, most of all he missed Lunafreya. Besides Loqi who was only his friend because of familial bonds, Luna and he had studied together, grown up together after the annexation of Tenebrae. They enjoyed learning about the history of Eos from Ragnar, but it was even better over a steaming mug of hot chocolate and peppermint bark that Ardyn brought back from his travels. They delighted in hearing of Altissia, of Galahad and even Insomnia.

But being here, now in the Lucian city. He missed her to the point his heart ached. For the last week ,Ravus had personally escorted him to school. After Ignis’s suggestion of getting to know his future citizens, Prompto had finally brought the idea to Ravus. At first, he had been highly awed that the foreigners had managed to find their way through the city and the stories they formed in his memory card. For Ravus it was a week of no complaining, no fighting, just silence.

During these stress free times Prompto had taken his late birthday gift from Luna and filled it with snapshots of immigrants from Nifleheim, mothers with their babies, old men surrounding tables as they played a game of checkers shaped in a star a group of bikers, their heads shaved in various styles with tattoos that covered nearly every inch. Some of the immigrants, really refugees, had cried seeing the young Imperial Princes, when Loqi had bothered to distance himself from his competition with Gladiolus, other times they had forcibly insisted that Ravus and Prompto join them for dinner. Even after one elderly lady had smacked Ravus on the rear end, squeezed and deemed him of good Tenebrae stock much to the shock of her family and the begging of her son to not punish his mam. Ravus, had tried quelling the mans whimpers of forgiveness. Till Mam grabbed another handful of his rear, hummed, and stated quiet boldly-

“The arse of a Prince. I knew a Tenebrae Prince once. Hand a nice face, abs that could sear a flank steak and his-“Mam was wheeled into her room shouting that he had an odd gun-sword hybrid that could fell a Red Dragon with one swipe and for her son to get his mind out of the gutter.

 For some, he knew their names, but Mam was his favorite.

Prompto glanced to Ravus, "Can't I just ride the bus? I don't mind going alone."

Ignis frowned, "if I may- "

Ravus glanced at Ignis, eyes silencing him. "That's fine." A smile spread across Prompto's face, his spirits renewed. "Just be careful. If anything happens call." Prompto nodded grasping the phone Ravus held out to him. "Do you have your homework?" The last words fell silent as Prompto darted around the corner leaving his Governor and the Advisor to the silence of the first morning rays. The pair stared at the light pole on the corner. The light flickering, dimming as the city awoke.

"Well, would you like to come in for coffee?" Ignis tilted his head then glanced towards the car behind him. Noctis could be awake. "If the Prince is there, we can always just pick up something on the way."

"I think riding the bus is a perfect idea. In public they are less likely to maim each other."

Ravus smirked, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest. "I'll have it ready. No creamer, two sugars."

It was nice having someone else do something for him for once, even if it was just a cup of coffee. Noctis grunted as the door opened, his belt catching him as his pillow flew away.

"Are we there already?" The Prince looked up, sleepy-eyed. "Why am I not at school?"

"You're riding the bus today." Noctis lifted a brow, righting himself in his seat. Confused he did not move to unbuckle himself, forcing Ignis too.

"Whaddya mean, riding the bus?"

Ignis pushed his glasses back, an irritated puff of air escaping him, "public transport. Prompto will be escorting you today." The shock that Noctis had was pleasing, Ignis biting back his glee. "It would do you good, spending time alone with him." From the tone, Noctis comprehended instantly that Ignis would not be changing his mind. No amount of dissent or grumbling.

"Fine." It was Ignis's turn to be shocked. Noctis pushed out of the car forcing Ignis to step away from him as he pulled his backpack behind him. "Which way do I go?"

Ignis motioned towards the lamp post, he had previously seen the sign when they had driven by that morning. It was not far, a minute's jog at most, five if one snail crawled. Nodding, Noctis shouldered the pack, waving a quick goodbye. "Be quick, don't miss the bus!"

"Yeah, mom!" Before he got too far away, Noctis turned around, "don't have too much fun." His brows wiggled, a cheesy 'I know what you're doing' grin on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had no idea I had gotten reviews and kudos! Wow, thanks so much, I'm sure you all know how much that means to writers.

 Animals topped Prompto's list of favorite photography models, especially the neighbors two huskies. The dogs snorted, pushing their noses against the wrought iron gate, between the intricate formed flowers as a shutter clicked. The look was priceless, one’s maw slightly open, eyes crossed as he sniffed at the camera, the other trying to crawl under the fence and its brother.

"I'm going to start charging you for taking pictures of Shiva and Ifrit kid." A tall man walked over, jogging down the stairs in his red running uniform. If he was anyone else, Prompto would have rushed off, but the man offered a friendly smile, the same smile he gave the Prince every day as he jogged past. Knowing it would soon be followed with the same offer to go for a run some time, Prompto always turned him down he had Loqi.

"I'd pay. They're adorable." The pair fought for control of Prompto's hand, shoving each other heads to the side as he reached into the gate to scratch behind fluffy ears. "Aren't you two just the sweetest." He cooed, pulling his hand back as the whoosh of air being forced from the brakes of the arriving bus reminded him why he came this way – school. The man stepped out from behind the gate holding a pair of leashes in one hand. The dogs darted forward ready to go, ready to jump Prompto, ready for the squirrel that scurried up its branch as the pups darted towards it only for the owner’s hold to jerk them back, his muscles flexing but his eyes never leaving Prompto.

Closing the gate behind him, the man glanced at Prompto as the teen moved to stand at the end of the bus line, teeth biting his bottom lip, the man tapped his shoulder. "Offers still open kid, we can be running buddies."

Running buddies? Prompto tilted his head, the man's eyes dropping to the lump of his Adam’s Apple as it bobbed. "The other guy seems a bit fast for you. I’d take my time" Loqi, Prompto silently agreed as he brushed his hands through his hair, pushing his glasses up not entirely sure this man was not just willing to show him running techniques. "The dogs would enjoy it." Brows lifting as the tips of fingers brushed over the arm of his jacket, HE would enjoy it. Ignis's words murmured at the back of his mind, what better way to get to know the people than to spend time with them. This was not the time he was thinking, but it was not like he was getting anywhere with Noctis. The warm welcoming smile and the man's gentle touch lulled Prompto toward accepting the offer.

A biting shout of "Hey, come on!" drew Prompto from the edge of acceptance. As Prompto glanced towards the open bus door, Noctis stood beside it, frowning, not at the blond his eyes narrowed slightly at the man beside him. "You're holding us up."

The man chuckled, the dogs letting out a low whine as Prompto stepped back towards the awaiting bus. "I'll think about it." He whispered the man smiled.

“Have a lovely day Sunshine.” The man winked at him, smiling at the product of his flattery displayed itself as it spanned those dappled cheeks.

As the door shut, Noctis made his way to the bench at the rear of the bus ignoring the confused glances of the riders. Prompto followed dutifully behind, tucking into the far corner away from the Prince. From his window he could see the jogger and his dogs, the man’s brown eyes lighting up when he saw Prompto peering out of the window. He waved again as the bus began to pull away, Prompto smiled but did not move. Noctis snorted from his seat as the engine behind them groaned as it sped away from the stop. For a few minutes, the bus was extraordinarily quiet, women turning in their seats to look at Noctis. They had grown accustomed to seeing Prompto riding with Ravus, was enough to silence the mutters that the Imperial Prince was riding Lucian public transportation. Now without Ravus, the people sat silent ready to gossip that not only was there one Prince, but two on the bus. As the bus slowed to the next stop, Noctis shifted from his own corner, blocking Prompto in. Prompto, eyes glued to the window tensed, he could feel the other riders' eyes on him and Noctis intense and curious.

 Offering a tight-lipped smile that looked more like he was holding back a fart, Noctis turned towards Prompto watching the passing scene, every so often his eyes drifting to Noctis’s reflection in the window. Ignoring the awed glances and rising murmurs amongst them, Noctis looked down at the camera Prompto held, the other teen had been flipping through the images.

From Ramen shops to the city's memorial park, Prompto had explored the suburb that he lived in which was more than Noctis had done in his entire life. "Those dogs?" Prompto hummed, refusing to speak to his counterpart. Leaning in Noctis looked over the picture, gazing past the dogs to the couch in the background. His throat constructing the overwhelming urge to scold Prompto was not quelled by his thoughts that it was none of his business. Like a sullen child who had recently been reprimanded, Noctis glanced back out the window, arms crossed. For as long as the stupid Accord hung over both their heads like Death's shroud no matter what either did, whom either slept with-they were eventually going to be forced together. Noctis just did not like the fact he had competition.

* * *

 

Focus was and should never have been an issue for Ignis. Reaching for the cold mug of coffee he held it briefly in his hand before setting it back down on the table, a shaky breath rushing forth.

"How as Prompto been doing with accepting the local culture?" Ravus' voice tumbled around his mind, and he wished he could answer. He cannot, not now as he bites the inside of his lower lip to stop the groan of pleasure that wants to escape.  His breath hitches as a strong hand comes up to caress his stomach, the reverberations of a hum causing his hips to jerk up suddenly.

“Fuck,” his oration skills are not the best, not as he glances down at the head of silver in his lap, finding those mismatched eyes glaring at him. That was not the answer Ravus wanted from his comment. Making his displeasure known, Ravus pulls away, his good hand coming to stroke Ignis’s cock in a lazy teasing grip. Ignis hisses as he clenches his hands into a fist a puff of desperation falling in a needy whine.

“I think you misunderstood me, Advisor.” Ignis’ nails dig into his palm, fist the sides of his jacket as Ravus flattens his tongue running it from the side, base to tip. “I said he was doing fine. He’s learning much about the status of the refugees inside the city.” A squeeze has Ignis thrusting upwards and the grip tightens, it is almost painful. If the ring at his base was not keeping him from his animalistic desire to fuck Ravus’s throat till Lord Nox Fleuret, Prince of Tenebrae, was left tender and quietened, stifling down the tendrils his desire.

He had not kept track of when the lines blurred when this arrangement or how it came to be. One day Ravus was aiding in keeping their young wards from fighting, and in a blur, he had found himself coming in for coffee. While they usually shared a pot, catching up on economic reports and swapping information, and innovative ideas to get their young charges to stop fighting. He could recall the attentiveness of a particularly dreadful day after dealing with the two teens, a dropped mug and its shard embedding itself into the palm of Ravus’s bad hand. The kiss was tender, kept back and left both acting awkwardly till Ignis left.

A desperate grunt left Ignis as he watched Ravus crawl out from under the table leaving his cock hard and desperate for touch. Ravus ignored him, stepping into the kitchen, green eyes stared at the way his fingers held onto the spoon handle as he stirred in a large helping of sugar. This was not happening, Ignis glared at Ravus wrapping his hand around the base, working fingers under the ring. He was not going to be blue balled.

“Don’t.” Stilling Ignis looked up, appalled that Ravus would have the nerve to command him. As the mug rose, Ignis cast his reservations to the side. What he would not give for a can of Ebony, he needed the pick me up and what Ravus had delivered left him unfulfilled in the worst of ways. "Prompto is having a demanding time understanding how business culture works and how entwined it is with the Royal family. The Empire has no business holdings, it’s a new concept to him" Ravus sits his mug down, working his shirt off.

"Hnnng, how do you advise to fix this 'issue'?" Ravus slipped his house shoes off as he stepped out of the kitchen. "Understanding cultural differences on the Hofstede's model will better assimilate Prompto into Lucian culture."

Ravus groaned, biting the corner of his lips as he fingered the band of his joggers, Ignis’ eyes dropping down watching those long fingers dip below the hem, pulling away enough to provide Ignis with physical evidence that this had been planned and sweet innocent Prompto was in on this act of debauchery.

“You’re not wearing underwear?” Ravus hummed, hand fisting over the length hidden to the right. Those unsettling eyes where on him again, mirthful, beckoning Ignis to find out for his self. It is the hottest thing Ignis has ever seen in his life. Gritting his teeth, Ignis slides the ring off, groaning as relief washed over him and he relaxes as white splashes of cum coat his shirt.

“I believe a physical report will help with these issues.” Ignis loosens his tie, pushing the chair back and stepping from his slacks. A quick glance to his mobile that rests at the center of the table informs Ignis he has an hour till he is needed at the Citadel. Ravus, unlike Loqi, is willing and prepared to be pressed into a wall, fingers trailing down the line of buttons that keeps Ignis the picture of the prim and proper noble. That’s far from what the advisor is at the moment, his fingers sliding down the taut abs, gripping Ravus’s wrist tightly, tight enough to cause a mild discomfort and force Ravus to release the hold he has on his cock.

Nimble fingers just barely caress the hardened organ, choosing instead to drift up Ravus’s empty hand to his wrist while the other hand trails down Ravus’s left arm, gripping his wrist gently and pulling both together. Hips pressing firmly together, Ignis pulls away, eyes bright with lust, a devious grin twisting his lips. Ignis presses closer, enjoying the slight friction he grants Ravus, a delight for the exiled Prince as his hips gyrate, breath hitching as Ignis leans in hands fumbling behind Ravus. He feels silky fabric slid over his held wrist.

“Wha-“

Ignis nuzzles his neck, inhaling the cologne and coffee that lingers in the air between them. “I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly Ravus,” Ignis jerked his hand, tie tightening around Ravus’ wrist, “that you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cruddy RavusxIgnis attempt.


	4. Chapter 4

The edge of the dining room table was hard, cutting deep into Ravus’ pelvis with each thrust, hands flexing and straining in the silk bond of Ignis Scientia’s tie, fingers spreading as a hand gripped his good arm tightly. The body behind him shifted, changing the angle, and settled in with a deep rumbling groan.

“You're fucking tight,” Ignis’ and his well-pieced demeanor had long dissolved into a muddled mess of vulgar compliments and only grew more muddled as he pulled out, the head of his engorged cock threatening to pull out and leave Ravus empty.

In response, Ravus pushed back, enough to send Ignis faltering, enough of an opening to gain some control. Ignis let him, watching as his length disappeared into the sculpted muscles in front of him. Ravus turned his head to the side, damp clumps of white blond hair sticking to his face, eyes half-lidded dilated black dominant than the vibrant hues. “Ignu—hus” Ravus panted as the moan he attempted to strangle is pulled deep within as Ignis took control, hands gripping the firm hips. “Nhn,” words fail him as Ignis thrusts, focused and hard come faster as he leans over licking a trail from the vortex of Ravus’ bound hands and up towards the meeting of neck and shoulder.

“Are you going to cum High Commander?” Ravus whimpers, the friction of Ignis’s hand lazy in its stroke over his heated member, the Advisor tightening his grip each time he hits the base. It is irritating hearing how collected Ignis is, how coherent he is amid the rapid, rough thrust and the way his hand works over Ravus’ cock becoming surer in its grip, pulling, tightening, twisting with each thrust. Ravus is forced to fuck Ignis’ hand, dick jumping with each caress of his prostate. He feels the first wave before it pools in his stomach. Muscles coil, his hands' grip at the tie that he is sure Ignis will not ever use again, his eyes are shutting tight, the muscles of his thighs tighten, his cock jumps again. His breath becomes rapid and labored stomach heaving.

“I’m- “the words die as a strangled whimper leaves his exhausted trembling body. Ignis moves away completely while his hips thrust at the wooden table for a few seconds, his orgasm ebbing away. “Fuck, what the hell Ignis!” It is a whine, he sounds like a child who cannot get what they want. He is within every right to sounds like that, he wants to cum.

A hard slap rings out in the empty house, his ass cheek stinging as Ignis draws his hand back and smacks him again, harder. Three more in quick succession and Ravus is whimpering. “What is that for?”

“The cock ring.” Ravus glances back at Ignis, twisting slightly to get a better look at the fuming face behind him. Ignis is beautiful with the shine of sweat on him, his hard member curling up to the left, his own muscles flexing and relaxing. He was close as well. He is maneuvered up from the table, pulled towards the living room. Ravus stumbles, legs weak at the joints, muscles tense from the prolonged wide stance he held himself in. Ignis settles on the couch, legs wide as he firmly holds his cock for Ravus. “Well?”

Ravus moves to knell a snort drifting from Ignis as he grabs the taller man’s hips, turning him around and guiding him down. “I’m going to teach you how to ride.”

An unstable breath leaves Ravus as he just on the tip, Ignis nimbly untying his hands. There is not a respite for his left arm as Ignis grips his hips, thrusting up and pulling Ravus down. An intoxicating moan slips from Ignis, head resting on Ravus’s back, hands holding the Prince still. Ignis pulls away, leaning back on the couch and gently pushes the flesh and muscle in his hand forward, then back. Ravus follows the guidance, rocking slowly, hands resting on Ignis’ knees, hips rolling. Ignis lets out another groan, deeper, rugged and he shifts thrusting upwards again. Fingertips grip tighter, the rolling motion becoming more urgent, growing rougher, faster as Ignis forces Ravus to roll his hips, hitting deeper and brushing against the sweet spot inside. Ignis mutters a string of curses, lavishing Ravus’s back with heated hungry kisses. They had fooled around before, blow jobs, quick hand jobs dispensed sometimes in the car others in the kitchen. Never this far.

Ravus whimpers as Ignis grasped his cock once more, hand still on the swelled flesh. Ignis’s pace picks up, forcing air rapidly from Ravus as his hips are forced from an increasingly tight grip to rock back into each thrust. Inside Ravus feels Ignis twitch, his own member weeping in the tight grip. Grunting, Ignis moved both hands, his pace quickens becoming unsteady as his body jerks erratically. It’s over in a muffled moan hidden in Ravus’s back. With a few sharp thrusts, the last bit of waning lust from Ignis, Ravus bows his head, hands gripping Ignis’ knees as splotches and pools of white paint the grey area rug.

Standing is difficult, his legs tired, hips painful in a present way where fingers had dug and pressed in, his left arm is what pains him even as he limps to settle beside Ignis. Before he can bring his right hand up to touch his left, Ignis’s hands are on him, kneading and working out the taunt spots of the frayed, scared, and mutilated arm. It is not an ugly mass of corrupted splotched skin but the lines of scared stitching at the shoulder, parts webbed together the obvious remnants of a strong fire spell with the most beautiful lightning flowers bloom crossed his back from the cusp of his shoulder. The arm, however, is weak, thin lines carved into it from his teenage years, from battles, most from his own malicious intents.

Ignis’s hands are comforting as they kneed the flesh, but he would rather have it in its cast, a prosthetist developed for him personally by Verstial Besithia. “That was amazing.” Ignis whispers into the scared tissue, “mayhap another time?”

Ravus turns his head, sleep tugging at his lucidness, odd for such an early hour. But his normal exercise does not have this much activity, does not leave his arm aching in pain. Ignis stands beside him, clothing collected in his arms. “Come on, it would be unsightly for a Prince to fall asleep in such a manner.”

Brow lifting in curiosity, Ravus slowly stands, his limp pronounced and bringing a smile to Ignis’ lips. “I can still walk.” Behind his back, Ignis’ gaze darkens.

“Who said we were finished?” The phone lit up, the first thrills of the default ringtone silenced as the power button was pressed down. Ravus turned in the hall, glancing down at the phone then to Ignis. “They will survive for an hour without me.”

 

* * *

 

  "Yo! Shrimpy," Loqi inhaled sharply, plastering a respectful smile on his lips as he turned, muscles constriction as his most loathed of nicknames is shouted crossed the training yard by none other than Gladiolus Amicitia. A mixture of Crownsgaurd and Kingsglaive operatives turned their attention towards him, the lone grey and red speak in a sea of black. Gladiolus excused himself from his training partner, working his way through the other trainees and instructors to the Nif. _Well, hot damn_ , Loqi's foot dug into the sidewalk ready for a preemptive attack but it never came, just a rough stinging slap on the shoulder. "That was a bit underhanded this morning. A rematch, tomorrow at four."

 

Loqi's nose crinkled, four in the morning? "Are you insane?"

A hearty chuckle, "Old King's Memorial. If your scrawny ass ain't there, I'll drag you out and Ravus won’t be able to stop me."

Loqi shook his head, hand aloft, “Six and it’s a deal.” Gladiolus smiled, Loqi grunted low, disgusted at the obvious charm the taller male exhibited. He would be resolute in his decision to not get up that early, “it’s a Saturday," Loqi huffed but Gladiolus was already rejoining his group of young Kingglaive cadets. The discussion over and Loqi’s nonexistent plans. So, he had, had plans such as doing nothing. A quick run with Prompto and a glare at the creep with the dogs, loaf on the couch and make a mess. Gaze linger for a little longer than necessary, Loqi turned and marched out of the alfresco training square towards the office of Clarus Amicitia.

The office was as obvious as the Citadel itself, the solid wood double doors overlooked the training grounds part of the ancient history of Insomnia. As Loqi stood in front of the door, hand lifted to knock, he took a moment to look around at the stark difference to Gralea. The cold climate had left the city a perpetual fortress of halls, an enclosed city with the only ways in where a subterranean subway system that spiraled around the main complex of Zegnautus’s Keep, or a barely used high way that sat filled with military vehicles. The inhabitants had grown pale, greyish, and sullen from the perpetual winter and freezing temperatures. Insomnia was the yin to its yang, the people smiled, laughed and the cities air was not recycled.

“You have a habit of just lingering around don’t you, young man?” Loqi jerked out of his thoughts, looking up into the atmospheric eyes of Clarus. For a moment he wished he could believe Clarus was only related to the younger Amicitia through another line except for direct kin, like an uncle, or even a distant relation like a cousin. “I heard you outran my son this morning, Cor was most impressed with that feat, Gladio is one of our fastest Gaurdsmen.”

Loqi swallowed, following Clarus into his office. “Gladiolus is your son?” Loqi takes in the room from the high bookshelves filled with thick tomes older than the Citadel, some bound in soft leather, others in wood to the mantle where above it hangs a banner, the families crest a large bird-like thing of green and silver, below that sits a collection of ancient weapons. A rapier in a wooden sheath, a pistol with a blade forged into its barrel, and a flask of swirling black and purple, flashes of thunder lighting it every so often.

The deep chuckle from Clarus is unnerving, having expected the King’s Shield to be as rugged and serious as a flint arrowhead. “Sometimes I wonder that myself.” Loqi is turning, catching the puff of Clarus’ robes as he spreads his raiment out to sit comfortably in the high-backed chair. “Cor wants you to begin training with the Crownsgaurd. It is your occupation as His Radiance’s Shield to learn from our guards, it will help you to better carry out your task. It’s not an easy job, and you will need to catch up with what is expected of your position.” Clarus offers the seat before him, smiling as Loqi sits straight-backed in it. “I understand you are Third in line for the Imperial throne, son of the Arch Duchess Hela, a Prince of Nifleheim yourself. While I pray no harm comes to Prompto, it would not hurt to learn some form of self-defense. Many Lucian’s are not happy with this arraignment.”

Loqi snorts, “No one is happy with this. My cousin should not have to marry because some dead old men decided to impose their will on the future. But,” Loqi sits back, folded hands resting in his lap,” it is my role to protect him.”

“We train six days a week,” Loqi’s mouth opens words of protest halting in his throat as Clarus holds his hand up to silence him. “Twice a day, morning and evenings five days a week, Saturday’s are a mix of physical training and classes.”

Even with Clarus hand aloft, Loqi shakes his head, “I have classes during the day, and when Ravus-“

“Yes son, I understand that.” Loqi slumps back, wide eyes staring at Clarus, heart racing. “I am willing to work with your schedule; your file says your specialty is mechanical engineering. You already have military certification, and this is a hobby. Since you are studying new courses, your attending is design orientated and you are not perusing a degree, you must enjoy picking up new abilities. Are you aware of how many Crownsgaurd or Kingsglaive can repair a vehicle? Change a tire, replace a battery? Ten, out of all our forces, we have ten operatives that have even the slightest mechanical background.” Clarus chuckles, leaning forward, “all hail from Gralea.”

Silence falls between them, Clarus offering a warm smile as Loqi attempts to find a way out of the offer. He understands his role, that more training out be beneficial, but to offer his own knowledge to Insomnia, provide them with the ability to become a large military force in a time of peace. _I pray no harm comes to Prompto._

“I accept, only if Prompto is admitted also.” Surprise lights Clarus’s face, but he nods already having private sessions with Noctis in the evenings.

“Yes, of course,” he chuckles again as if the idea was a given. “Of course. I will personally see to it that Prompto is trained.”

“No, he is to train with me. In the evenings, with the Marshal.”

Clarus hum, nodding again. “Of course, your Majesty, I will speak to Cor as soon as possible. It should not be an issue, on the days he cannot attend, Gladiolus will handle the training.”

Loqi nods, watching Clarus’s hand as it stretches towards him, “Agreed.” The grip is firm, Loqi returning it just as unyielding. “Monday, then?”

Loqi stands, Clarus pulling his hand away. “Yes, although I understand my son has planned a rematch for tomorrow. It’s a shame I won’t be there to see it. Business as usual.”

“A shame.”

“Not at all, Iris has a dance recital. It would be a shame to miss the hard work she puts in.” Clarus smiles, leading him towards the door with a firm hand on his shoulder. “You are more than welcome to spend the day watching the trainees.”

Loqi steps out, squinting at the dimmed sunlight, a change from the fluorescent lights of Clarus’s office. He turns to give his thanks, but the door is shut, the lock clicking behind him. “Alright then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to hide under a rock. Tell Titan to move over he now has a roomie under the Meteor.


	5. Chapter 5

The bus is a comforting lull, under Noctis as he waits for Prompto to pull the line for their stop as he munches away on a bag of sugar-cinnamon French toast sticks. “Do you do this every morning?” He mutters, recalling the few times recently that Prompto had arrived at school a few minutes late.

“Breakfast?” The blond shakes his head no, “no, sometimes Ravus walks me the last mile to school. I think we have only gotten breakfast twice, it’s some restaurant.” Noctis hums, eyes drooping, chewing becoming slower. He is asleep, having left Prompto talking to himself. For a while Noctis sits with his head turned towards outwards, to the other passengers and the giggling toddler beside him as the child absconds with another still warm toast stick. The boy snickering catches Prompto’s attention and he smiles, bits of toast sticking out between his tiny teeth. The boy is happy as Prompto points to Noctis the sight entertaining to him that he is not the only one to fall asleep on the bus.

“Look mommy,” he whispers, tugging on his mothers’ sleeve. The woman glances over, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the Prince and his bag of half-eaten pretzel sticks.

“Shh,” Prompto brings a finger to his lips “we don’t want to wake him.” The Nif takes one of the toast sticks munching on it. The boy laughs, sneaking another one.

“Justin,” his mother scolds, “that’s not your food.”

Justin, sullen goes to spit out the stick when the bag with the last three come into view in front of him. Turning his eyes land on the sleepy face of the freshly awakened Prince, Prompto is standing, his backpack hanging on one shoulder as he pulls the line beside him alerting the driver that passengers want to get off. “Here, a gift.”

The bus shutters to a stop, Noctis and Prompto working their way through the standing passengers, few moving as they are forced to shove past in the packed and hard to navigate bus. The driver nods to Prompto as he steps off, dropping a few gil into the meter for whoever is to get on next. “Have a good day boy.”

Prompto smiles, “you to Curtis.” Noctis waits a few paces away, hearing the noise from the bus grow louder as more of the passengers get a better look at the two young passengers. In the lightly tinted window he sees phones pressing into the glass, a few flashings to capture his picture. Its uncomfortable, but Prompto is taking his time making them escort each other a grueling task to achieve.

“Prompto,” Noctis whispers, eyes glancing at the phones as the sound grows louder, his name reaching his ears in more than one voice. “Prompto the name is said a bit louder, but the blond is to wrap up in a chat with a bus driver who seems just as committed to wasting their time. Glancing around for other teachers that may be late, Noctis grumbles. Their already late, and Ignis is not as forgiving as he has seen from Ravus.

Noctis steps forward, the bus nearly leaning towards him as more people clamor to get a look at the Prince. He can hear the questions already, who is he with, what is he doing on a bus, leave it up to the royals to be late to school. Its rash and bold of a Prince to touch someone in any manner, the rules binding him to his normal decorum are the same Prompto follows in public. No touching including hand-holding and caresses, no improper touching, no kissing unless in greeting.

These people do not cast a glance at Prompto, they have not during the entirety of this horrible morning adventure. They only notice as the blond is tugged off the bus, Noctis’ fingers entwining with his to lead Prompto down from the steps. It's even worse that most don't know Prompto by his first name. Everything continues a downward spiral as the doors close behind Prompto leaving the two on the abandoned sidewalk, the bus still has not left and Prompto has a slight bit of cinnamon sugar at the corner of his moving lips. It would have been appropriate to offer Prompto his handkerchief, subtler and just let the audience wonder who the boy with the sun-kissed hair is. It would have been proper not to silence him with a light brush of lips to the spiced corner.

But Prompto shuts up, eyes wide as Noctis pulls away just slightly, hand curled under his chin with that damned bus still behind him, the driver must be suffering from shock. “I missed you,” Noctis is not looking into those periwinkle eyes, but the soft line of light peach lips slightly parted. Prompto gulps uncertainly, tongue darting out to dampen the object of Noctis’ desire.

“It’s only been a week.”

Noctis smiles, their eyes finally meeting. “Six hundred four thousand, eight hundred seconds. That’s a lot of time.” The bus groans as it pulls away leaving them without an audience. “Wanna ditch today?”

“Um, I don’t think,” Noctis’ smile drops, and he nods.

“Prompto, I’m sorry. I was an ass, a real douche with how I treated you. I should not have said what I did. You didn’t ask for this, neither of us did.”

Crossing his arms, Prompto narrows his eyes. “Did Ignis put you up to this?”

Noctis looks down, shoe scuffing the ground, “it’s been a nonstop lecture this entire week.” Noctis looks up at him, stands of black hair falling in front of his face. “But I wanted to apologize. The nagging just helped.”

“I see.”

“So? Hit the arcade?”

Prompto’s head is tilting before he can stop the confusion that crosses his face, “what’s that?” The hand holding Prompto’s tightens and he is pulled into the street, the Prince pulling him along excitement spreading on Noctis’s face.

“You’re going to have so much fun.” Noctis pulls his uniform tie off shoving it into the pocket of his backpack.

“Okay. Hey, just so you know…I don’t touch myself to your pictures.” Noctis stops and winces as he shoves his jacket into the pack also. “I just think you make a great subject.” The professional esteem Prompto reserves for his art is endearing even as a dark knot grows in Noctis’ stomach.

The Prince shrugs, “I guess I’m the only one.” Prompto watches Noctis take a few more steps away till the Lucian realizes his partner in crime is not beside him. “Prom?”

“What do you mean?”

“About? The pictures?” Prompto nods, cheeks blooming as Noctis steps over to him.

“If you are going to ask me to stop,” Noctis shakes his head, nose scrunching, “I’m not going to. Ever.”

Noctis is turning away, fingers curling for Prompto to follow him. “Let’s go before Gladio gets wind we are ditching and ruins our day.”

“Yeah.” Prompto takes a deep breath and follows, his cheeks pink heart racing at debilitating speeds.

* * *

 

Insomnia did not have shooting ranges, the use of guns limited to pistols and indoor shooting ranges. Afternoons were reserved for indoor instruction and Loqi was put in the spotlight as Clarus suggested a tutorial on the ‘Proper handling and technique of handguns. Loqi could have refused, he should have, but now he was surrounded by a group of twenty trainees wide-eyed and eager to learn from the enemy. The first task was to teach them how to properly assemble their weapons. With the pieces of the handgun laid out on the metal table in front of him, the students watching with slack-jaws as Loqi starts.

The pieces disappeared in quick succession, firing pin and bolt assembled, hammer, receiver to handle, sliding the bolt in with a metallic click. The hammer swings loose as Loqi assembled the rest of the pistol, pulling the trigger and pressing the hammer in. They stare glassy-eyed at the holey target. There is only two holes, center and head that appear the clip empty.

A low whistle rings out in the brick room, Loqi’s earring protection placed on the counter beside the hand gun, one of the trainees rushing to grab the target paper. The worship the group gives the black and white paper is flattering, its hard to keep the pleased smile hidden.

“This is, wow. Can you teach us?” The eager eyes of an odd collection of bodies all hailing from some place in Eos is strange. The paper is passed around, the last trainee to hold it is a young woman with a distinct Atlassian accent.

“It’s not everyday we get to learn from an accomplished General.” She is biting her lip, lashes batting words cooed flirtatiously. The others watch, hoping Loqi is like some of the other instructors, easily swayed by a pretty face and silent promises.

A brow quirks upward, and he smiles holding his hand out to the young woman. Her cheeks redden as she passes the target over to him, making sure her fingers trail over his bare hand. “Miss, that’s up to Marshal Leonis and Commander Amicitia.”

The reaction is immediate, the doe eyed vixen disappears into a disgruntled hag its only then he lets an inkling of pleasure seep from the lackluster demeanor he has built around him. Gladiolus’s booming voice echoes in the small cramped room, the air conditioner vying for dominance, hoping to be louder, as it kicks on. It is with a smile of gluttonous pride, he watches them stiffen, arms folding over their chest, hands fisting as their Lieutenant takes the steps into the range two at a time.

“At ease,” they relax, Loqi turning back to the hand gun and begins dissembling it. “It’s chow time, report to the class rooms at fourteen hundred hours.” The tension rolls off the trainees, two hours of downtime. “There’s banana crème pie, dismissed” the trainees still for a moment, saluting the young man as he moves through the congestion they have caused. “If you guys are just going to stand there and stare at me, we can go do some PT. Dismissed.” The door slamming against the outside wall reverberates into the shooting range, the trainees foot falls heavy as they double time in a single file line.

The metal door slams shut, the air conditioners humming the only sound filling the room. It is a pleasant sound, the whirling of the fan, the cool air curling through the area. The heavy exhalation against the back of his neck, “your deadly with a hand gun.” The hairs on Loqi’s neck stand on end, hand tightening around the bolt of the weapon. Gladiolus steps back as he lowers the target, brow lifting at the obviously tense muscles of Loqi’s shoulders. “We have a problem.”

Loqi closes his eyes, thumb stroking down then backs up the spring of the bolt. He is fighting to swallow the lump that is rising while simultaneously slow his heart. That deep tremble of Gladiolus’ voice has the opposite effect than it has on most, there is a lining of bodily harm that swirls around each syllable. Like he is found his daughter has been kidnapped and he will hunt Loqi down and end his life. “What’s that?” Loqi turns, bolt still in hand.

“Noctis nor Prompto arrived at school this morning.” Loqi’s death grip on the bolt diminishes, “Ignis just got the call.”

“I was informed Ignis was dropping them off,” Gladiolus shrugs, eyes lighting with mischief. Rolling his eyes, Loqi holds his arm out for Gladiolus to take the lead. “Any idea where they could be?”

“Noctis likes this burger joint down on the Riverwalk, or a trash can,” Loqi levels him with a glare, “at the Arcade most likely.” Outside the range, the training grounds are empty but clean. Weapons stored away, litter picked up and placed in trash cans, it was amazing the short amount of time it took for the trainees to clean up the training grounds. The desolation makes reaching the parking garage a quick five-minute trip, Gladiolus spends it tapping away on his phone.

Inside a booth sits an old man, his eyes faint lines under a pile of wrinkles, like Prompto’s Shar-Pei, just with bushy grey brows and thin greyed hair. “Lord Amicitia, the helmet you requested.” The man stands, leaning out of his booth an all-black helmet with a silver dragon inlay.

“Thank you, Max,” the old man hums settling back into his seat as Gladiolus holds the helmet out. “Put this on.”

“We aren’t taking a car?”

“Naw, Ignis and Ravus will met us there.” Blue eyes glower back at Loqi in the visor. The motorcycle is not standard issue. The others beside it smaller and flat black with white trim the emblem of the Guard laying over the sides of the gas tank. The one Gladio pushes out from the group is large with glossy metallic blue paint, the family crest detailed in silver.

“Are you sure you know how to ride this thing?” Gladiolus looks Loqi over as he slides his helmet down, the beguiling grin disappearing behind the black visor. “Ignis always drives you around. Just like the Prince.”

“Not always, now get on.”  A gloved hand pats the seat behind the hulking body, urging Loqi to trust the other Shield. Huffing childishly, Loqi pushes his own helmet down snapping it on. He is not pleased to be riding in this seat when there are other bikes he could take. Reluctantly he reaches up, hand on Gladiolus’ shoulder, upper body twisting as Loqi climbs up behind him. “I’ll try and be gentle.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

A deep roar shutters through Gladiolus as the motorcycle growls to life, it is not the bike the other man laughing as he pulls on of Loqi’s arms forward. “You are going to want to hold on.”

“I think I’ll be fine with the bar back here.”

Max lifts the barricade, waving tartly as the bike slowly exits the garage. Settling in, hands gripping the bar behind him, Loqi glances both ways, opposite Gladiolus. “Whatever you say.” As traffic clears, the bike darts into the opposing lane the sudden acceleration forcing Loqi forward, fingers twisting into the front of Gladiolus’ zip up. Within seconds the sounds of honking assaulting them as the bike cuts through a congested intersection cutting a turning SUV off. The lanes before them are jammed with the mid-day lunch rush, as they come to the next intersection the area is blocked, by two Crownsgaurd vehicles. At the center sits two cars, one an old beater from outside of Insomnia, the frame bent from the impact of the other Insomnian built vehicle. The bike slowing is enough of a reprieve for Loqi to breath, grip still taunt as they swerve between the congestion till it reaches the first Crownsgaurd cruiser. The Guard glances up, lifting his hand out to halt them, shouting over the discord that no one is to pass. Gladiolus lifts a hand giving the man a thumbs up, continuing to inch out into the intersection.

The speechless look on the Guards face as the engine revs and the bike sharply turns, a cloud of burnt rubber trailing behind as it races down the empty roadway is priceless and the last thing Loqi sees. The bike tilts, low enough to make out the rocks that compose the cement on ramp, Loqi realizes that no amount of training with heavy assault machina, or the large Magitek Cuirass had prepared Loqi for riding bitch to Gladiolus Amicitia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I have this horrible horrible love for fast cars and motorcycles. I imagine Gladio would be more adept at a motorcycle and Ignis has the need for speed but must drive safely because Noctis likes sitting on the back of seats without a seatbelt and Prompto is constantly turning around to talk to people. What type of non-existent traffic laws does Eos have?


	6. Chapter 6

The car door slamming jars Ravus from the intense gaze he has given his phone, colors shifting across the screen as he attempts to call Prompto for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Beside him, Ignis grips the wheel, gloves creaking as he twists his hand towards the windscreen.

“You have reached Prompto leave a message.” The phone beeps as the voice mail pick up. Ravus frowns, turning his phone over ending the call.

Adjusting the buckle, the most movement he can manage without wincing, Ravus looks to Ignis. “Any luck inside?”

“They came in about an hour ago, got three hamburgers, a salad, and two sodas. Sat in the third booth from the door. Left after a round of Justice Monster 5, and according to the owner, the Prince said they were headed towards the Arcade. Gladiolus should be there by now.” The gloves creek again as the car starts, gear shifting, anger radiating off Ignis. Under the cool exterior, the Chamberlain had curated, Ignis is seething.

Sliding his own phone into the pocket of his jacket, Ravus sighs, masking a grunt as he adjusts his seat back slightly. “Still not up for walking?”

“You're shorter than me, that’s all.” It is the first smile Ignis shows since the school’s automated system had called letting them know their wards had never arrived at school. The smile only gets larger when Ravus looks out the window at the passing buildings, people sitting outside cafes, a blond with a distinctly Chocobo inspired hairdo standing outside an Art and Music store, beside him a slouched teen with a mop of black hair. “There!”

The car slammed to a stop, the car behind honking followed by a quick succession, Ravus’ hand tight on Ignis’ thigh. “Where?”

“Near the BofS branch.”

The sudden mass congestion drew the attention of the pedestrians, the two teens standing out front of a group of onlookers watching as the black car that caused the pile-up and a distant wreck stood at a stop. The passenger door opened, Prompto grabbing Noctis’ arm.

“It’s Ravus.” Noctis whispers, backing into the crowd in a futile attempt for him and Prompto to disappear. The car is moving, no doubt that its Ignis as it pulls away going to the stoplight to U-turn. Behind them Ravus is walking quickly, the crowd forming a near impenetrable wall forcing Ravus to shove his way past.

“Is he okay, he’s limping really bad.” Prompto glances at his Governor, the man’s gait firm but awkward.

Noctis chuckles, grabbing Prompto’s hand a coy grin spreading on his lips, “all that coffee he’s been drinking.” It is loud enough for Ravus to hear and he stops brow lifting as his eyes narrow at the gleeful face of the Crown Prince. “It’s a stout brew from what I’ve heard.” The voice echoes in the empty alleyway, Prompto shoving Noctis to the other end as Ravus rushes after them slower than his normal pace.

“We should probably just go with them.” Prompto breathes out, following Noctis as they shove their way through the packed sidewalk. A glance behind them and Ravus is working his way through the crowd of pedestrians that had slowed them down.

“We’re so close though. We can lose them, I always lose Libertus in the Market.” Prompto stops, eyeing a white van ahead of them.

Noctis,” Prompto look back wondering what was taking Ravus so long to catch up. Noctis shrugs, bypassing a stall filled with basses of assorted sizes. “Something’s wrong.”

“Naw, Ravus doesn’t seem like a guy willing to traverse the dangers of a fish market.” Fish in hand, Noctis shoves the dead, gutted animal at Prompto, “Mr. Fish want’s a kiss Prom.” Disgusted, Prompto steps away, pulling his arms closer to him as he nearly touches the ugliest octopus he had ever seen. “It’s dead, it's not got to hurt you.” The monger snorts at the queasy Prompto, handing Noctis a paper bag with a bundle of fish in it. “Look at that, dinner.”

“Enjoy.” Pulling Prompto from the octopus stand, they walk through the Market, from the iced fish and stand-alone cooked meat stalls, the heady spices filling their senses making bellies grumble to other vendors with meats held in refrigerated buildings. As they make their way through the libertine market, Prompto follows along quietly, every so often glancing behind him. Nowhere in the market does Prompto spot Ravus or Ignis following them.

“What’s up?” Noctis steps into his line of sight, a Banora white in hand. “You look like someone kicked your dog.”

“It’s Ravus,” Noctis sighs, shaking his head, Prompto scanning the stalls and meat vendors behind them. The van is gone.

“No,” Noctis tightens his grip, as a woman shouts at no one that her fabrics are the finest weaves from Galahd. “Come on.”

Turning, the pair run into a tall man, an ill-fitting Kings glaive uniform jacket draped over him the hood pulled over his face. “Just where do you think you’re going, wee Majesties?”

Prompto groans, bringing a hand up to massage his temples. “Home, sir,” The man steps towards them grabbing Prompto by the back of his neck a dagger sliding from a hidden sheath. Around them, the vendors stop only for a second to watch the interaction. The man’s breath ruffles Prompto’s hair as he leans, brushing a hand through the boy’s hair patting down the tuft of wayward hair.

“He’s a smart boy. Aren’t you your Radiance?” Noctis flinches as the dagger comes up to Prompto’s neck. “How about we go for a ride? Try anything Prince Noctis, I have no qualms gutting him.”

The man turns, pulling Prompto beside him, Noctis following obediently. Past rows of vegetables and fruits sit the white van, the door sliding open as they approach. The man shoves Prompto forward, then turns to Noctis who lingers back, eyeing his surroundings. Sunlight greets them from the other side, shadows cast by an extensive line of cars. One stands out near a hydrant, a black Audi, a biker leaning into the window.

“Excuse me,” the man in his ill-fitting garb turns, a black helmet swinging into his face with a brutal crack. The visor shatters as the man falls, eyes wide open his nose bent to an odd angle. With morbid fascination, Prompto stares down at the man watching as blood fills one eye. Besides the dilation of vessels, the man does not move, not even the shallow exhalation of breath. Noctis watches Loqi, he to is staring at the man frozen for a moment till he takes a deep breath and looks to Prompto. Around them the vendors continue their shouts, promoting their wares ignoring the quick scuffle. It is not the first time they have seen something, and it most definitely will not be the last. “You okay?”

“He’s dead?” Prompto bites his lip, looking at his cousin, hand coming to his neck where a thin line has been cut, blood pooling in his clavicle. He moves closure, enough to give Noctis a look into the front seat of the van where the driver sits, brain matter and blood trailing down the windshield. “You, you killed him.” Loqi drops an arm around his cousin, pulling him away from the scene, the blond rubbernecking to get a glance at the dead man. Sirens wail, the sound echoing off the walls, it is only a matter of time before the Glaives and Crownsgaurd arrive. Ravus makes his way through the gathering crowd, his jacket a multitude of bright pastel chalk, fresh lavender wafting off him with the first good breeze.

Gladiolus watches in silence as Loqi directs Prompto to lean against the Audi, Ignis already leaning against the hood, phone to his ear. Ignis nods his head, “yes sir, I understand.” With that, he pockets his phone, glaring at the two teens, Prompto on the verge of a breakdown while Noctis looks a slight bit repentant. “His majesty requests our presences.”

Prompto tightens his hold on his shoulder bag, knuckles white as Ignis moves in front of him to open the rear passenger door. “Your Highnesses.” The Advisor bows, nose crinkling when Noctis shoves the bag towards his face. Noctis inhales as Ignis takes it, then ducks in, climbing to sit behind the passenger seat as Prompto turns away from him, looking out the window behind the driver’s seat.

“Prompto, are you alright?” The blond tenses, pulling his bag into his lap ignoring the question. The front doors are opened simultaneously, Ravus slipping effortlessly into the front seat. When Ignis enters, the thoughts of engaging Prompto in conversation disappear. Outside the car, Loqi is looking at the helmet, then towards the car and back again.

“Should we offer him a ride to the Citadel?” Ignis tilts his head slightly, the should of the turn signal ticking.

“Didn’t he come with Gladiolus?” A Crownsgaurd vehicle passes by, slowing coming to a stop up ahead. Glaives and Crownsgaurd flood the area in minutes, dread settling in the pit of Noctis’ stomach. Outside, Gladiolus has joined Loqi, the busted helmet in his hand, his own under his arm. The younger watching as a Guard approaches. Gladiolus smiles at the woman offering the helmet in exchange for the cracked one. From this distance, it had to read their lips, but the next second, she is laughing and raises her hand as she departs.

Loqi’s shoulders slump and Gladiolus nudges him with his elbow. The blond shoves him away, pushing off the wall he has tried to merge with and walks off. Ignis leans forward rolling down Ravus’ window. “Everything alright?”

Gladiolus nods, stepping towards them. “Yeah. We’ll meet you there.” Gladiolus lifted his hand, as Ignis pulled away. As they disappeared around the corner, he turned to his bike where Loqi waited, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the visor of the new helmet.

“I…I didn’t think that would have killed him.” Loqi sighed, turning to look up at Gladiolus.

“You were doing your job, you protected Prompto and Noctis from being kidnapped.”

Loqi tilted his head, his normally side swept bangs falling into his eyes. “Yeah. I guess its all good he wasn’t an Insomnian.” Gladiolus’s lips parted but the words stuck in his mouth as Loqi disappeared behind the black visor and he offered the front seat to Gladio.


	7. Chapter 7

The ride back was safer, a safe speed through the city streets as they followed behind Ignis. That did not stop Loqi from keeping a tight grasp on Gladiolus’ jacket, or the pain that shot up his legs as he dismounted the bike having pressed himself as close to Gladiolus as he possibly could without becoming part of the larger man. Despite the disgust that rose, clenching around his chest, Loqi placed the helmet gently on the back seat of the bike, quickly turning away as Crownguardsmen jogged out to secure the Princes. Behind them marched three Kingsglaive, no doubt there to collect the bodies in the vehicles that arrived in a wail of blaring alarms.

“Hey!” Gladiolus’s hand wrapped around Loqi’s wrist, halting the Nif before he could get further away. “What do you mean ‘it’s good they weren’t Insomnian.’”

Everyone present’s fury in unusual ways. Emperor Aldercapt had an extremely challenging time containing his own as of late not in an obvious way, but the way his eyes went from ice to fire could but anyone in their place and Loqi knew this fury all too well. Gladiolus exhibited his anger by yelling, lashing out at the intended targets, Ravus had a habit of glaring, silently brooding and Ignis’ nose crinkled minutely, the left corner of his mouth turning up in a slight but not there snarl. Noctis was much like Gladiolus, Loqi observed as he watched the Prince train many times, provoked at the smallest things Gladiolus would say. Buttercup had to be the absolute worse way to rile Noctis up, while Prompto internalized everything and then would snap flooding everything with his anger all at once. Loqi’s had long settled, quelled when the helmet slammed into the man's face.

A combination of his own potential failing to protect his Prince, his failure, which was the worst thing he could ever imagine expounded when he saw the man’s eyes, a dark ring breaking the iris into subtly different hues of blue. In recent generations it had grown darker, his own eyes a mix of light blue and dark grey creating a steel color where Prompto’s, an odd mix of blues that they appeared purple, a biological mark, much like the tattoos of the Galahd natives, denoting ethnicity.

He had killed a countryman, a fellow Nifleheimian for trying to abscond with their Crown Prince. A traitor, the word drifted through his mind, to hold Prompto in such a manner was treason, he deserved his death.

“It’s not important. We prevented a political fall out,” Loqi pulled his hand away, looking past Gladiolus as the Glaives removed the two black bagged bodies, Crownsgaurd’s shouting orders at them.

“A right spade you are Ulric,” the Guards' eye shifted to Gladiolus and Loqi as they marched past. Stopping the Glaive gave Loqi a challenging look, the Glaives a temporary wall, “a right spade.” The man smiles, a wicked glint in his eye as he takes in the smaller man assessing his own worth. As the last Glaive passed between them, a young lithe woman, the Gaurd turns to eye her backside with the same malicious intentions he showered Loqi, and Prompto as he passes by the Prince's, with.

Scoffing, Loqi beelines for Prompto settling into step beside him. As they follow the Gaurd and Glaive, Prompt nudges him smiling his thanks as Loqi looks at him. “Thank you,” Prompto whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Facing King Regis’ wrath was a stark contrast from facing Emperor Ideolas at his kindest, especially within the recent years. The Emperor had slowly turned from the kind man that had cherished stolen moments with the two remaining heirs to the Imperial line to something they barely recognized outside of their childhood memories. While he looked like the dotting grandfatherly figure they had once loved spending ample amounts of time with, however as he aged, and his mental health began to rapidly deteriorate it thrust the pair into unknown territory. Which had an unintended effect on Prompto even when Ravus came to Nifleheim Court as his advisor.

Ravus had been hand-picked from the surrounding protectorates and as a peace offering to the Principally of Tenebrae, and a means to subjugate them, to accompany Prompto as his Advisor and tutor in Lucian customs. Ravus was not prepared to face the King himself so long had he been away from courtly functions and so stood awkwardly in front of the King and dissipates Loqi’s glaring protest, the younger man stood between the Prince of Tenebrae and the Prince of Nifleheim looking like a pissed cat with a wet tail.

Above them, Regis looked down from the throne gaze drifting from each person. Where Ideolas would look at them with more contempt and disdain than one man should ever have, Regis looked everyone over with a hint of skepticism. Prompto kept his head cast down using his advisor as a body shield but he could not hide from the scrutinizing gaze of the Lucian King. Regis shifted minutely, eyes drifting to fix on Prompto as Clarus leaned down to whisper into the King’s ear. At the far back of the throne room the Nifleheim Ambassador, his voice barely a whisper speaks over his cell phone near the door. Loqi and Ravus know he is reporting this issue back to the Chancellor, or his assistant as the man has been handling some business in Tenebrae. They can only hope the Emperor does not hear about it.

As Regis rights himself hands folded before him, the King gives the whole a once over. “Prompto, come here.” Loqi’s turning hoping to meet Prompto’s eyes in an offer to assure him that everything will be fine. Prompto does not look up, his body is tensing, and his face is looking like a cooked shrimp. Prompto struggles to swallow the shaking breaths, his bottom lip trembling and he flinches when Regis finally stands metal cast clinging. It would be soundless but even the Ambassador is quiet, his phone protectively hidden from view in his pocket. Ravus moves to the side, just enough to give Prompto room to step forward to the orders handed down by the King, but the Prince is stuck. It is not proper for a King to repeat himself, but Regis does firm but with a touch of kindness neither of the Nifleheim princes had ever heard.

Prompto takes reluctant steps forward, he does not look at Loqi or Ravus. He learned long ago not to look to them for help, not for lack of willingness on their part. With each careful and calculated step, Prompto becomes smaller his shoulders pulled tight, head tilted low hoping to never see the anger that must be on Regis’ face. It was his fault, he was the target, not Noctis. They wanted him and Noctis was just an extra treat thrown in.

This slumped figure of Prompto, so detached from the grace and stalwart pride that is bred into every Niflheim native that has drifted away leaving the pay dirt that glaringly shows that not all is all right in the country, is the form of a broken boy with much fear of even a gentle hand. It has a sight Loqi and Ravus are often acquainted with and they can feel the questions that their counterparts are churning out silently. Regis is only making it worse but Ravus cannot speak out as they already caused so many issues that day so he and Loqi resign themselves to watch as Regis brings a hand to Prompto’s shoulder, even with the fatherly touch the Prince begins to shake. It devolves from there.

“I’m so sorry, your Majesty.” Prompto’s shoulders spasm as he pulls away eyes glossing over. Regis lifts a brow confused for he has said nothing, but he is slow to reach out for the boy and he’s not fast enough to grab Prompto and steady him before the Prince is doubled over and the meager contents of his stomach splashing the steps that lead to the Draconian throne, and Regis regiment, in vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Regis looks down at Prompto watching the young Prince continue to spiral. The boy is taking his school jacket off to clean the mess from the floor muttering his apologizes repeatedly. “Prompto,” the blond does not hear him.

“Excuse us, your Majesty.” Loqi is quick to tug Prompto up from the floor before his jacket can connect with the bile that now paints the royal steps. Stammering his regret, Prompto allows Loqi to manhandle him away from the King, doing his job by placing himself between the prince’s retinue and the distraught Prince. Unlike the three crossed from him, Ravus does not turn or move to join them. Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus watch as the Ambassador is pulled from his spot and forced out the doors by Loqi’s hand.

The whispered scrap of the doors sliding closed throws the room into silence; everyone slowly turning to look at Ravus. “My apologies your Majesty, His Imperial Highness …” Ravus frowns shaking his head. It is not his place to divulge the Imperial families secret and Prompto has already had enough of a day. “the changes forced upon him are great, he is still young.” It feels like a slap in the face, they are all young, even Regis and Clarus.

“This is a matter that is best left in private, Ravus.” Regis agrees with turning his attention to his son. “Noctis, just what where you are thinking of skipping school?”

Noctis’s brows lift, the shock of the breakdown not yet worn away. “I wanted to show him around.” It is a lie one Ignis and Regis both notice quickly. Ignis catches Regis’ eye, a silent request to investigate the true reason.

“You should have gone through the proper channels. You both could have been killed, your lucky that your advisors arrived when they did.” Regis takes a careful step over the vomit stepping to their level and sighs. “Noctis, you are to be King one day, this is unacceptable.” Near the throne, Clarus looks away. It is as if Regis can feel his own Shield’s snarky comment, so he backs up. Clarus did his own amount of leash tugging when they were younger much to Mors’ relief.

“Ignis, what do you feel is an appropriate punishment?” The Chamberlain glances to his charge then Gladiolus whose smirking.

“We will figure something out, your Majesty.” Regis nods, Gladiolus hums as if he is already deciding the best action.

“Please excuse us,” the King turns to look up at Clarus, “everyone. I have a matter to speak to Lord Ravus about.”

Prompto cannot make it inside of the townhome fast enough to throw himself onto the couch, to hide from the world that threatens to crash down upon him. From the door, he can hear Loqi talking with the Ambassador. The man’s worry is evident in the way he tries consistently to talk over Loqi.

“General,” Loqi huffs silenced by the mention of his title, “if I may. The Chancellor is already on his way.”

Prompto stills, lifting his head up from the couch, looking towards the door and Loqi. Loqi’s hands have fisted beside his hips, back straightening. “The Chancellor? Why would you have done that Mr. Gainsborough?” Loqi managed to croak out, its barely a whisper.

“General Tummelt, we feel this engagement has gone on long enough.” Mr. Gainsborough shrugs his shoulders, standing taller, “I have entertained this dalliance for months and have followed Lord Ravus’ request to allow them time, but the Lucians are not compromising. We must carry this out and Chancellor Izunia will be the decider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a spade is a derogatory term, mostly used towards African Americans (Don't use it, ever), its also the head of a shovel and in this case it is used as both a racial derogation as well as insinuating the people of Galahd (and the Glavies) are useful for nothing but back-breaking, slavish work or as body shields for the Royals of Lucis. Much like the movie (which I finally rented). Yes, it's thorwn towards Loqi


	8. Chapter 8

 “What the hell do you think you were doing?” Ignis hissed, shoving Noctis forward as they stepped into the Prince’s flat, Gladio shadowed devotedly behind neither man stopping to take their shoes off. “Noctis, you really fucked up.” Gladiolus remained behind, despite Ignis’ calm tone the usage of foul language was a foreign concept to the advisor only presenting itself when he was truly past the point of being just ticked off and into the realm of bodily harm becoming reality.

Noctis realized this, he really did, but it was so strange hearing Ignis with the posh accent that the majority of Lucian’s of high birth had littered his speech with curses that would make a veteran whore blush. It was only natural that Noctis gave him a ruthlessly smug smirk, eyes glimmering with mirth in the dim kitchen illuminated by the over sink light. “Just honestly, what in Ifrit’s sweltering anus where you thinking when you took that boy out? I know you have a strained relationship; this sham marriage is not what anyone asked for. But gods damnit Noctis, that dim-witted Ambassador Gainsborough is going to report what happened.” The skillet banged on the stove, cabinets jerked open and the microwave slammed as it buttons where roughly pushed in. The only thing calm in the kitchen was the hum of the microwave as it dethawed a dagger quill breast.

Noctis looked over at Gladiolus as his Shield finally removed his shoes, Ignis’s fuming left him with nothing to say. The older man leveled him with a glare then shook his head. “Noct, you realize the Arch Duke had a mental break down because of this right?”

Forcing in a deep breath, Noctis crossed his arms abstractedly tugging on his jacket button, “I don’t see how that’s my fault. Come on, I took him out to have some fun.”

Ignis whirled give Noctis his own glare, one that could curdle milk, spatula raised, “in the most dangerous part of the city. Noct, you both almost got kidnapped.”

“Then I’m lucky you both did your jobs.” Noctis grazed the button, “I want him to go away.” Scrutinizing the marble of the countertop, Noctis uncrossed his arms tapping his fingers over the marble top. Gladiolus’s regard flickered to Ignis who had lowered the spatula, heat turned low on the onions in the skillet “I understand it's for peace, but I can’t marry a Niff.” Pushing off the counter, Noctis brushed his hair back into place, “it’s just another way to get us under the Empire’s authority.”

“Noct, Prompto is a perfectly fine boy.”

“I understand that, but you saw today. A good gust of wind comes along, and he’ll cry.” Bestowing Ignis with a deeply vehement glare, a vague look of disgust on his face, “maybe you should get both heads out of Ravus’s ass.” Gladiolus reared from his hunched position against the counter, Ignis’ free hand coming to rest on his bicep halting anything the Shield had planned to say.

“Noctis,” the Prince shook his head tilting down to pick his backpack up from the floor.

“I got homework Specs,” Gladio jolted back, face ruffling as Noctis slouched down his hallway towards his bedroom, “and take your shoes off.” Ignis scowled, head turning down to see he did indeed still have his shoes on then turning towards Gladiolus who shrugged.

“What the fuck…”

“I share the same sentiment Gladio.” Ignis stared at the living room before him, “hopefully this does not alter any plans of peace.”

Inhaling, Gladio glanced over to the stove, “whatcha making?” Ignis shrugged.

“Haven’t really decided. Angry cooking.”

Gladio smiled, draping an arm over Ignis’ shoulder, “well stew and cook away.”

 

* * *

 

Loqi looked up from the bowl clasp to his stomach, masher stilling as his attention focused on the front door, Ravus stepping in and shaking out an umbrella. “Where’s Prompto?”

“In the shower,” Loqi tilted his head down pressing into the avocados, mashing them as thoroughly as he could. “Gainsborough sent word to the Chancellor.”

Ravus stilled, lower back leaning against the door frame one leg bent so his foot rested on his knee allowing him to remove his boot. “At least it wasn’t the Emperor.”

“Yes, we can be thankful that Izunia decided to answer the phone and not his Imminence.” Loqi smiled reaching towards another bowl and scooping out a healthy handful of tomatoes. “Heaven forbid the Old Man sees his heir living like some commoner. Forced to attend a public school, living in some shamble of a home.” Ravus stilled once more as he worked his left foot free from the boot unsure if Loqi was joking. The younger man was adapted in Acerbity and had a striking wit that left one with feeling burned and more than meticulously insulted. “Imagine that old fart having to come here and oh my we are making our own food.” Loqi emptied a small black cup of mall green vegetables in the tomato-avocado mixture. “Like common fucking crofters because of a spoilt nursling!” Watching Loqi mash the poor vegetables into oblivion like he was in his Magitek suit, Ravus pushed his boots back against the door with his socked feet.

“I want to punch that smug little twat in the face.” Onions fell into the bowl meeting their end being stirred robustly into a green dip. Not offering Ravus any of the guacamole, Loqi opened the bag of tortilla chips and started scooping enormous amounts from the bowl.

Watching Loqi shove chips into his mouth was fun an all, Ravus had found out a long time ago Loqi had a horrible snacking habit, just one of Loqi’s few self-destructive habits. “Loqi, its nothing to get worked up over.”

“Whaph?” Wincing as he tried swallowing the mass of guacamole and chips in one go, Loqi shook his head, “no. I’m not worked up. I mean, I am pissed cause Prince Noctis is a puttering quim with the intelligence of a soggy cracker. Can’t change that.” Taking his time, Loqi shoved fewer chips and guac in his mouth than before. “Getting Prompto out would be great, don’t you think?”

Ravus lifted a brow, reaching for his own chip to scoop some of the guacamole onto. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well I’ve been talking with some of the Glaives” Loqi looked up at Ravus as the man hummed, “and it would be a fantastic way for Prompto to endear himself to the immigrants of Insomnia.”

“Did you forget that he’s part of the problem for this mass migration?”

Loqi bit into his chip a small pout forming, “I think it’s a great idea for him to get to know these people. He’ll be Emperor one day and if he sees how they live in Insomnia he can change everything.” Sighing, he stirred the guacamole with a chip, “there was once a great military leader who had a great Kingdom that covered the Known world of his time and instead of taking and forcing the conquering army’s beliefs on them, he assimilated they’re into his Kingdom.”

“Alexander the Great, really you want to turn Prompto into that?”

“Of course not,” Loqi smiled, glancing up to the stair that was visible from the kitchen, “I want him to be something greater and Noctis to be the footnote of history.”

The sound of chips crunching with each bite and intermittent creaking for floorboards filled the house as they listened to Prompto move above them. Ages passed between them, Ravus lost in his own thoughts while Loqi tapped away on his mobile a lingering smirk on his lips. “You only get that look when your up to no good.”

“Am I ever up to any good, Ravus? You’ve known me since I was a babe, there isn’t a drop of good in this body.”

“At least you realize it.” Ravus reached over jerking the phone from the blond, “making plans young Tummelt?” Ravus turned winching up the phone out of Loqi’s reach. Deciding not the fight it for it Loqi scrutinized Ravus. The way his brows drew together, then lifted as his eyes widen, the slackness of his jaw as his lips moved over the text as blood rushed to the older man’s cheeks. Ravus swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at the contact name, hero. Chuckling, Loqi plucked the mobile from Ravus’ hand with little resistance. “That- that is not Gladiolus.”

“No, it's not. One of the Glaives.” Shocked, Ravus stared at the younger man whose smirk turned into a smile. “Surprising, I know. Somethings can’t be helped.”

“I think they could be.”

“You know nothing, Ravus Nox Fleuret.”

Shaking his head, Ravus waved the younger man off as he began his ascent up the stairs. Who was he to stop Loqi from having fun, even if it was something that Loqi typically found to be far below his normal standards? It wasn’t Ravus’ position given his own dalliances to tumble around with Ignis Scientia. They were all external of Iedolas’s sway of power. At least his immediate rule “I’m going to check on Prompto.”

“Perfect, because we are going out.”

The stair creaked, Ravus leaning over the banister, “It is late.”

“And?”

“It’s a school night.”

“All the better. I was not joking about endearing himself to people. You should come, take a different chocobo to pasture for a night, or two.” Prolonging his visit to Prompto, Ravus turned jogging down the stairs and over to Loqi. Normally Ravus’ heterochromatic eyes where light, virtually pastel now seem to be cheerless his teeth exposed as he grabbed Loqi by the front of his shirt and hauled him close.

“You were going to take him to have sex with some Glaives?”

“What!” Loqi’s nose creased up, “No, there is a photography class that just happened to be in the Galahd quarters. It’s about an hour.” A leer appeared on Loqi’s face, “just thinking getting off on someone else than just Scientia could give you a better…. world view.”

“You’re a prick.”

“Hmmm, thank you, but I do advise you to distance yourself, at least intimately from the Advisor.”

Snorting, Ravus jogged up the stairs leaving Loqi to his chips and guac. Prompto’s door was half open, the young man sitting down at his desk, pencil rushing crossed his notebook as he flipped back and forth from the problem he was currently working on and the example he had in his text.

“Prompto,” the boy looked up, stands of damp hair clinging to his forehead, fluffy towel resting crossed his shoulder. He wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of green shorts. Prompto offered a small soft smile as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Ravus held his hands up as he came to sit on the edge of Prompto’s bed. “Don’t worry about it. Chancellor Izunia is on his way. Not sure when but from the way Gainsborough spoke he was rather upset that Izunia and not the Emperor was coming.” Prompto’s pencil fell to the textbook with a thunk, the boy turning around in his seat, eyes growing wide.

“So that means….” He coughed a bit then blushed. “Lady Lunafreya will be coming with him.” Ravus nodded his head.

“Yes. I am sure she will be visiting places in the city, it will be her first time to Insomnia.”

“Can I? May I, Ravus. I…its been so long since I have seen Luna and I would love to escort her around the city. It would mean so much to me, I promise, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get harmed.” Prompto clasped his hands together, bowing his head as he begged for his chance to spend some marginally small amount with the women whose grace and beauty had laid claim to his heart years ago.

A huff of breath drew his attention, “Loqi already has plans for you Prompto. I think that is something you must ask him for the time being.”

Sighing, Prompto rests his forehead against the top of the chair back. “Ravus, I just want to go home. Back to Gralea, where people do not see this,” his hand swept downward motioning to the still plump stomach and thick thighs. Ravus is more than aware of the Lucian mindset, waifish beauty is prized, even among men. The Royals are more than an absolute example of this. Noctis with his fair skin, Ignis with a striking face and lithe frame, Gladiolus is ruggedly handsome and that scar he sports is just another layer that adds to that churring desire Ravus has seen more than once. Even the older royals, Regis, Clarus, and even Cor are handsome at their age and it’s no wonder the King of Lucius is still a topic of discussion even in far-flung lands like Accordio and Tenebrae.

In Gralea, where life is hard, thin people do not have the resources for food. They look at the Imperial heirs, the nobility for the direction their country is headed in. It is a disgusting aspect of Nifleheim, the masses suffer while the bourgeoisie flourish. Ravus finds it is ironic, as he takes in Prompto’s plump form, the serfs of Gralea adore the Imperial Princes, especially Prompto, for he is their beacon of light in the dark, grey lands they inhabit. Sadly, they do not see how Prompto’s been ensconced once out of the public eye, the way even his light fades given time. Unlike Prompto they do not worship Loqi with the same reverence, he is heavy handed and militant. His own true self shadowed in the dull Gralean landscape. “I can do something there, here what is there for me to do? Go to school? Come back to this house, and stay in my room? Noctis hates me and I know after today I’m the last thing he wants.” Prompto turns around, resting his cheek on his hands, looking at the few pictures that cover his wall. Reaching out he pulls one off, thankful for the double-sided tape, and stares at the smiling face of Luna as she gets wet kisses from Pryna, Umbra nosing his way into her hands and behind them spreads a field of Sylleblossom, the sun low the color of a warm summer dusk.

“My Uncle is going to kill me once he finds out what happened.” Prompto strokes the side of the picture, flinching as Ravus’s hand rest on his back-rubbing circles. If Prompto looked at him it would give the impression he was looking at the picture of his sister, deep in contemplation. To Ravus he glides his hand over a myriad of fine lines that cross over the young man’s back, thinly raised thanks to the gentle hand of his sister.

“Then we won’t let him.” Ravus whispers, his conviction strong as he brushes a hard lump near the boys’ shoulder. “Loqi was planning to take you to a photography class tonight. Where you aware?”

Prompto tilts his head to the opposite side, burying his eyes in the crook of his arm. “Yeah, just give me a moment to finish getting dressed.” Ravus nods, choosing to squeeze Prompto’s arm. “Will you be coming with us Ravus?”

“Why not. It could be fun.”

Prompto smiles disarmingly bright at his guardian. “Great!” Ravus smiles back, its rare for him but given the small freedoms of the Lucian capital, it is a small one as his own shadows linger within.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was long. I really hope you guys are enjoying this story, cause I am.


	9. Chapter 9

The gallery, below the loft that houses the photography class, is filled with different images of Insomnia. Black and whites, hues of sepia and pictures featuring the various shades of summer. Ravus stands before one wall featuring a panoramic picture of a large central park it one, he has seen many times in the last few months of living in the city. It is one he often accompanies Prompto to when they go jogging, the one Loqi was force them out to in the cooling heat of evening tired of being cooped up indoors.

“The pictures of beautiful, don’t you think?” Ravus lifts a brow, eyes drifting to look down at the sunflower dress and a head of brown hairstyles into an impossibly girlish style, ends flipped up. “Insomnia is an amazing city. Just so many things hidden in plain sight that we never take the time to notice them.” Cocking her head to the side, the girl, more of a young woman Ravus realizes as she offers her hand stepping into his direct line of sight. “Selphie Tilmitt, Assistant gallery director. Quistis is teaching the photography class that the Prince is taking.”

Glancing down at her offered hand, Ravus hesitates before offering his own. Her grip is surprisingly strong for a woman of her stature. “We would love to host any pictures the Prince has taken or any he will during his residency in the city.” She pulls away first, looking at the panoramic of the park, “it would be an honor. Quistis would be ecstatic to display anything that a fellow countryman has created.” Selphie’s hands move to rest in front of her comfortable in the silence that stretches between them. It is strangely comforting to stand and look at the picture, Selphie stands an arm’s length from him, studying the picture with a trained eye. Finally, she gasps and nods, “well, if he decides he would like to show his work here is my number.” She holds out a torn corner of lined paper premeditating this meeting before she even approached the Commander.

“Of course,” Ravus offers a thin smile to the glittering grin that Selphie offers.

“Yes, if you are interested, we have snacks and coffee for those waiting on the students in the class. I believe the other young man that came with you has sadly eaten all the chocolate chunk cookies.” Selphie chuckles glancing to the far end of the open studio where Loqi, the only other person waiting, tilts his head back greeting them, cookie held aloft.

Sighing, Ravus pockets the slip of paper. When they had first entered, he had caught Loqi eyeing the snacks like a horny frat boy in the center of a group of college girls on spring break. Not finding some way to excuse the other man, Ravus sighed hand wiggling into his jacket pocket.

“It’s perfectly fine,” as Selphie looked up at him this time that smile had dulled slightly, the vibrant green of her eyes reflecting a knowledge that someone like her, full and healthy, should not know. “We all go through these stages when we first get here. Insomnia is a cornucopia of freedoms that few, especially those from the Empire, ever see.”

The click of Selphie’s heels on the laminate floor is the only sounds in the lower studio, Quistis giving instruction on how to use a vintage point and shoot camera. Selphie’s unexpected presence lingers on Ravus’s mind as he and Loqi waited in the gallery watching the multitude of children, mostly teenagers from various schools in the city, leave with parents’ bags of fast food offered at such a late hour a poor substitute for dinner.

Downing the last of his coffee, something the Shield did not need as his watch hands struck eleven, Loqi tossed the cup into the bin, Quistis stepping towards him and Ravus. Stepping back pushing against the wall Loqi inhaled deeply, Ravus giving him an odd look before his own eyes settled on the woman. Studious, as she should be in a library rather than some immigrant art gallery instructing kids about photography and other muses, Quistis was in all sense and physicality an imposing woman, a woman that had once held an exalted position if Loqi’s reaction was anything to go by.

“I see you still like my cookies.” A stranded groan tumbles from Loqi’s parted lips, then he is chuckling, face red while he rubs his neck. Whatever history the pair have, Ravus needs to know – life or death- it's fascinating to watch this Prince, a General act like a love-sick puppy. Loqi never reacts in such ways. Around no one not even Aranea Highwind who Ravus is even extremely impressed by and holds in such regards or that Glaive he has seen more oft than not take down her male counterparts.

Loqi careless when Quistis turns offering her hand to Ravus, “I liked the walnut toffee better.” It is scarcely above a whisper, but she nods, her left boot shifting to one side and it taps down twice.

“It’s an honor to have you in our presence, your Majesty.” Ravus glares at her hand willing for it to move from his sight but Quistis takes a step closer. In the dim lighting of the gallery, Ravus catches the slightest glint of silver, a slip of paper lightly stamped with the crest of House Nox Fleuret tucked in the long sleeve of this woman’s jacket. Ravus brings his hand up gripping hers in a business manner as his fingers deftly grip the paper and she helps him tuck it into his own jacket sleeve.

“Prompto has an eye for photography. I am aware Selphie spoke to you about displaying his photos, we would be most honored to arrange this.” Whatever spell she had cast of Loqi dissolves in an insistent the Shield nodding.

“I think he would like that. It is up to him, but I will stand by his decisions.”

“I hope then, General Tummelt, you can convince him to join us.” Focused on Prompto and Selphie in the distance, while listing to the cloaked discussion beside him, about him.

Selphie is pleasant as she bids them goodnight and to take care, Quistis nodding silently beside her as the two women lock up the gallery. Prompto is jovial and wishes them a good night as well taking the jacket Ravus offers him with a bright grin. He has never looked this happy, at least not since they arrived in Insomnia. Even at such a later hour, the Galahd district is teeming with life, restaurants open large clumps of people dotting the insides as music filters out. Some of the restaurants that cater more to Lucian driven markets play local bands, classical or atmospheric melodies. The ones frequented by a majority of the Galahd’s displaced by war are filled with laughter, one place they walk by filled with a bawdy tune that leaves Prompto’s jaw slack. Its about the Oracle, not Luna, just one of her ancestors and the way she took a Knight for a ride one bright day in the hills of Galahd.

Ravus only smiles at Prompto when he asks about this Oracle as Loqi leads them to an open-air vendor a group of Glaives the only patrons. “Yes, Inanna Sol Fleuret. Although there are many versions of the story, in Tenebrae he was a healer, not a Knight.”

Prompto’s awed face that someone in the position Luna will hold is well have been like that leaves him in a shocked stupor, surprised as he thinks about this Inanna. He has heard the name many times in Gralea, when they would visit the Temple’s erected to Tiamat, the Mother Goddess, the place Luna has resided since she and Ravus became wards of the State, and scoffs. The faces of woman are all he thinks of, the way they brought Luna gifts of various ores, sweet meats and perfumes begging for the Oracle’s healing touch so they could bare children one day, or for those beaten by their husbands to be avenged. Those women never returned, their wishes hopefully granted by the physical manifestation of this patron.

“Religion is odd.” Prompto sighs confusion evident as he thinks about the different Astrals, the ones worshiped in Insomnia, Bahamut and Ramuh. While the physical manifestation of Shiva resides around the seat of Nifleheim, a frozen waste land and Titan holds the Meteor on his shoulders.

“It is,” Ravus lifts one of the kabobs from the basket Loqi offers him, mouthwatering as he bites into the sweet spicy meat impaled on a skewer. Prompto stares at his till he feels Ravus’ toe nudge his shin. “Eat, you need it.” Prompto’s nose scrunches but he resigns otherwise Ravus will not leave him alone and Loqi will join in. They eat silently relishing the meat and the large side of fries. Unhealthy as it may be its something they have never had and Prompto, after downing both his water and Ravus’ soda, wants more.

“It’s not like all the other Lucian food.” Prompto's hunger getting the best of him at this point. The Glaives at the far side turn watching with steeled gazes as Loqi waits for two other rounds of skewers.

“Well, if it isn’t a couple of Niffs.” The words spat on the ground by a large Glaive, and he stands pushing his food to the side. Prompto stills, eyes wide as he takes in the group. From the menagerie of outfits some are off, others just leaving and want a quick bite. All bit one is staring at them, her back turned as she eats her own skewer with a gentleness one would not expect from a Glaive. At least from what Prompto has heard at school, Glaive’s an animal; what he has seen from watching them train backs this up. A hand lands on his knees, Ravus assuring him everything will be okay. Which it would be, if Loqi knew how to keep his mouth shut when someone prodded for a fight.

“Well, if it isn’t a couple of spades.” Mocking the Crownsgaurd that had uttered the term a few days prior. The men stand, glaring at the General weapons forming in flashes of blue. Contrary to her comrades’ actions, the woman begins to laugh waving a hand at the men to sit down. They hesitate, eyeing the three intruders, it’s her bellow to ‘sit down for fucks sakes’ that sends them reluctantly to their seats. She swivels around, beer in hand and looked at the three amused that someone had the gall to say that and that someone happened to be from Nifleheim.

Her laughter dies leaving her with a pleased smile, “you three are quite the lookers.” She stands, the men she dined with horrified that she was talking civilly to the people that had a hand in the ruination of their lives. The group watches as she picks up her food, her beer as well as two more in hand and plops down a crossed from Prompto as if it was an everyday occurrence. In the safety of his shack, the vendor grills up another skewer this one dipped in a spicy mélange and places it with Loqi’s order.

Loqi watches the other Glaives warily as he joins, he should be getting his ass beat into a gory pulp, it is something he wanted to do to that Crownsgaurd, surprisingly they linger watching the female as she dines with these monsters. “You went to a class tonight?” She looks at Prompto who nods stiffly hand reaching out for the vintage camera he just forked out hundreds of crowns for. The woman hums, “Quistis is a good teacher.”

“You know her?” Prompto whispers pulling his drink away.

“Oh yes. I wish she would join the Glaive, her and Selphie, but they are already sworn.” Her gaze and smile turn towards Ravus, “I can understand why.” The woman shrugs then, bringing her beer to her lips, “anyways I’m Crowe, I hope to see you both around more.” Glancing to Loqi, Crowe rolled her eyes muttered undecipherable and stood to return to her previous table.

Prompto insists on riding the bus and not taking a taxi back to their house. He wants to take his time, a reluctant resignation from Ravus and they are on their way. Loqi and Prompto huddle together as they play a round of Kings Knight, Ravus leaning over not certain what they see in the game. The pairs energy dies off as they step inside, Loqi falling onto the couch while Prompto sits in the recliner. Walking through the house, Ravus turns on lights finding the place empty save for him and the two left in the living room both dead to the world. In the still silence that permeated the home, Ravus takes the letter given to him by Quistis from his pocket, looking over the thick envelope and wax seal of his family crest.

On the face side, it is blank, the worlds on the inside barely noticeable through the thick paper. Turning it back over to look at the wax, Ravus follows the line of the envelope fingers still at the indent in the wax, Ravus staring at the letter he hopes is from the one person that matters most to him, more than even his sister. Inhaling shakily, Ravus lifts the envelope tenderly to maintain the seal of his house. With the seal broke his hesitation disappears and he is rushing to reveal the envelope.

_My treasured Ravus,_

_I hope that this letter finds you in good health, in the safety of Lucius. As our paths have diverged there is much, I wish to tell you, to catch up with my most cherished son and hold my beloved daughter in this changing time. Soon, I feel, we shall be joined once more and return Tenebrae to its station of prestige. My sources have insured you are safe, and your sister has been indentured as a Priestess of Tiamat. I hope she is safe in such a position for she will not become an Oracle until I have passed. I hope to see you soon, with these pending nuptials of two houses under that banner of the Draconians. This marriage must happen._

_My guard keep you forever safe._

_With all my love and hopes to set off with you, your mother_

_Sylvia._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quistis and Selphie and one other character from a different Final fantasy will be added. Maybe a good idea to watch those tags going forward.


	10. Chapter 10

Ravus stares at his gloved hands, last fall has swung into Insomnia with its first cold front and levels a thin blanket of snow on the ground that cancels school for the day. So now he deals with Prompto alone the young Prince twittering away about some video game he really wants to get. Ravus could care less still mulling over the words from the letter he received from his mother a few days ago.

“And then I sucked his dick.” That brings Ravus out of his thoughts and he is staring holes into Prompto’s smiling face as the teen lifts his cup of hot chocolate to his lips. “Is something the matter Ravus?”

“What would make you think that?”

Prompto sits his mug down leaning forward folding his own gloved hands before him. “I just told you that I slept with the entirety of the Crownsgaurd and then copulated with the King and you didn’t even hear me.” Ravus huffs but Prompto is not finished. “Is it because of Uncle Ardyn coming to visit due to the time it’s taking for this wedding to happen?”

Ravus shakes his head bringing his mug to his lips but its colder than the Glacian’s bare butt. “I’m sorry Prom, it's just.”

“You got a letter from your mother.” Ravus looks up at Prompto pushing his cold coffee away with a lift of his brows. He regards him passively, like that is not what is going on, but Prompto reaches into his pocket pulling out the folded letter and offers it with a tilt of his lips. He is sorry, it says, and he looks at Ravus then cast his eyes down in an admission of guilt. “Me and Loqi talk ya know. I know this marriage is important. It secures Lucius for the Emperor, for my Uncle. But,” his cheeks puff as he debates what he plans to say next, working on his lip as his brows pucker together. “I don’t want to do this Ravus.”

Prompto looks around the café and scoots forward when he sees no one looking in their direction. “I, I don’t see Noctis that way. You know…I…” Inhaling Prompto leans back with a shake of his head, “I would give anything to just step down. To not have to do this. Loqi, Loqi is so much better at politics than I and he is commissioned, and he’s been on the front lines and- “

Ravus puts his hand over Prompto’s and smiles, “Loqi refused. His Radiance offered him this position. That is why he is the Second Son.”

Prompto stares at their hands, not minding the snow as it picks up around them. “I don’t want to marry Noctis.” He whispers, “I love. I want to marry Luna.” Ravus smiles although his feelings are conflicted. Prompto is in all senses his little brother, raised alongside Luna as Fenestella, then later Loqi when the younger man came to join them for a few years. While not related he knows Luna sees Prompto as nothing more than a younger brother, even if they did hold mock weddings as children and she is not only married to Prompto but Loqi and the governesses son Osbert and that tuxedo tom cat that stole fish from the monger at every change, Cait; Ravus knows she feels none of those feelings and is sure Prompto just misses her.

“She has been sent to be a Priestess of Tiamat.”

Prompto nods poking the last floating marshmallows with his spoon. While the Lucian’s revered Bahamut, Nifleheim followed the teachings of the Goddess Tiamat, ironically Bahamut’s wife in Solheim lore. “I know.” Prompto sighs. As a priestess, she is untouchable, pure, and safe from the war that rages against Lucius. Just as Ravus wanted.

“If there was some way, I could…”

“There isn’t.” Ravus firmly squeezes his hand then stands to wrap his scarf snuggly around his neck. “I understand this is not something you want, but Prompto there are forces on both sides that want this to end.” Prompto nods standing himself and adjusting the coat and scarf her wears. He manages to button it to the top with no straining, the coat large on him than it had been in late May and Gralea’s perpetual snow. Ravus says nothing allowing Prompto to take the lead as they leave the outside patio.

“Do I have to…you know?” Prompto glances up, head tilted to the side as he tugs down on his beanie. “Like you and Ignis? Cause.” The blond shakes his head and looks away face and ears a lovely shade of cooked lobster.

Ravus blames the cold for his own coloration, “what are you talking about?”

Prompto’s head snaps up at him, shuffling into a bus stop covering. “Geez Ravus, it’s not like we don’t have ears. I can hear you perfectly at four in the morning.” No ones standing with them the chilly day uncommon in the city so a majority the sidewalks and roads are empty. “Oh fuck me harder Ignis. Right there, ah haaahaaa. Faster Ravus,” Prompto dodges Ravus’ swipe darting to the opposite side peels of laughter echoing through the metal building at the Commander’s expense. He takes it red face but not shamed only embarrassed because he was not aware, they were being that loud. Prompto sighs as he sits in his corner and smiles at the other man. “I don’t see me saying those things to Noctis.” He flushes holding his hands together in his lap, “or Luna. But I want what you two have, eventually. I do not want to be like Lo. Perpetually single.”

Taking his own seat in the center Ravus smiles, not aware that there was something growing between him and Ignis other than seven inches, but he decided Prompto can believe what he wants, even if it is not the truth. A light air settles between them the stress of the upcoming treaty dissipating like the heat from their bodies as they wait. Ravus stands as the bus nears not understanding why Prompto loves riding such a public mode of transportation. It is not like they don’t have their own vehicle a nice white utility vehicle that Loqi initiated due to living with the ‘jolly Tenebrae giant’ and that Ravus would look like a sardine if they went with a regular sports car. Silently Ravus believes it is because Prompto craves social connections, he sits a seat down from Ravus and welcomes a young woman to sit beside him without hesitation, and they talk. The older lady that sits crossed from Ravus glares at him the entire ride to their stop while Prompto’s seatmate wishes him a good day and hopes to see him soon. She has no idea that she had sat beside someone whose station is so far above hers that if it where Gralea shed is hauled off and executed for even existing on the bus.

Stepping off the bus the cold hits them hard, both burrowing deeper into their scarfs to shield themselves from a gust of freezing hair. They ignore the barking dogs as they stroll down the sidewalk enjoying the silence. Prompto drifts away silently wondering what it would be like walking down the street with Luna, a heavy fur coat of a Queen Coeurl protecting her from the wind. A smile lights his face, a soft sigh escaping him. In his mind eye Luna’s own smile changes to a shy grin, her bright eyes gray in the whiteout. Eventually, Luna fades, Noctis taking her place bundled in the white jacket.

“It seems we have company.” Ravus’s statement brings Prompto into the present and he realizes he is not dreaming and that Noctis is really standing there waiting in a white winter coat. Crossed the street sits a garish red convertible, it's top out and then a line of white vehicles denoting the connection to the Empire. Opposite the street is lined in black, yin to yang, with Lucian delegation. Noctis shifts to push off the gate outside the home, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Gladiolus stands behind him, Ignis nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on?” Prompto whispers sliding behind Ravus to hide from the prying eyes he can feel peeking out of the windows. The borough of Idun is filled with immigrants from Nifleheim, the perfect spot the three could call home, seeing their delegation lining their streets brings them out in numbers. Down at the end of the street where a mix of MTs and Crownsgaurd guard the block offs the people have gathered to catch a glimpse of their Emperor. They only get an awkward wave from his youngest son, but they take what they great and cheer even though that blond-haired boy with a chocobo coif has been living among them for the last few months. Ravus waited, arm outstretched as Prompto stepped before him, then Noctis.

Inside the house, the living room was warm and welcoming and filled with people from the Crownsgaurd, a few Kingsglaive lined the walls, King Regis relaxed in a recliner while Ignis sit near on the edge of the couch. In the kitchen, Loqi fussed more to keep his own nerves at bay than anything else.

“Oh well, if it isn’t the lovely couple.” Ravus straitened immediately, a loud clatter rose up in the kitchen followed by a soft barely audible sound of Loqi apologizing. “Oh dear, come now relax.” Loqi slides away from the counters standing in the center of the square U-shaped area, hands behind his back as he tries his best to remain at parade rest. The Kingsglaive pay him no attention but Clarus does from his spot near Regis’ right watching the Chancellor of Nifleheim as he swaggers down the stairs not amused by the living situation of the three Princes. “Prince Noctis, Prompto. Let us keep this short and to the point. His Radiance, our esteemed Emperor and protector of Nifleheim and her territories is on his way in hopes to witness this union of our two countries.”

Ardyn smiles as he sits on the couch less composed than Regis and far less rigid than Ignis. He crossed his legs, ankle resting on knee, and smiles up at the two. “His Majesty the King has assured me that everything will go smoothly for tomorrow. You already hold the Glacian’s blessing as she arrives early in Insomnia.” He sits up waving for Prompto to come forward. “I trust that you won’t push this issue like the last time. It is terrifying, I am sure, but you both will learn to get along.” Ardyn inhales and with a rock stands from the soft couch.

“Well, Reggie, we have a wedding to plan.” Regis frowns following Ardyn’s lead. Ignis follows, Clarus shooting him a glance, stay, then follows Regis and the flamboyant Chancellor from the modest house. The Crownsgaurd follow in straight lines, their marches thrumming through the house till they are gone. The Glaives follow shortly after, one operative standing near the kitchen long after the door closes, and the cars leave.

Ravus does not relax, his shoulders are tight as he turns toward the Glaive. “Why is he still here?”

“For the time being, I am his Imperial Highnesses guard.”

A soft snort from Ravus. Like Prompto needs more protection than he and Loqi can provide for him. “And you are?”

“Nyx Ulric.”

Prompto tilts his head behind Ravus’ shoulder, then looks to Noctis who opens his mouth then closes it with a bite of his lip. From the side of the couch, Ignis is looking between the two with narrowed eyes and grew suspicious. Nyx Ulric is their best Glaive earning high marks in all forms of combat, a shrewd tactician and if Luche was not the power-hungry twat he is, Nyx would have been placed as defacto leader. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that even though the man comes from Galahd, he loves Insomnia and her people. “Is there something wrong, Noct?”

“Of course not. I have full faith that Nyx will carry out his duty without question.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this has taken so long to get back to.


End file.
